


Souviens-toi de moi

by Mantabel



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 17th Century, 1980s, Alternate Timelines, Angst, Ben Solo painter, Child Loss, Civil War, Cursed, F/M, Finding each other again, Hollywood golden age, Internship, Kylo Ren painter, Modern AU, Past Affairs, Past Lives, Renaissance AU, Renaissance Era, Rey queen, Rey student, Romance, Secret Lovers, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, between present and past, living for nearly 500 years, painting restoration, present day, queen/artist, soul mates, there is a happy ending, time jumps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2019-08-29 19:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 47
Words: 117,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16750579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mantabel/pseuds/Mantabel
Summary: Ben Solo is hire to help lead a painting restoration project for the forgotten painter, Kylo Ren, a man demonized for kidnapping and raping a young queen and sending a king into madness. While working on this project, he means a young woman who seems very interested in everything he does. She follows him home from work, often talks to him like they've known each other for years, and even tells him she feels that it was destine for them to meet. However there are some dark secrets that are hidden deep in the oils and color as Ben slowly learns that not everything as it seems. Perhaps this forgotten kingdom was cursed? If that's the case, Ben might be the only one who knows how to break it.





	1. We Shall Paint You a Portrait

**London, 2018**

Ben Solo hated taking the tube, but it was his only form of transportation as his car had been in the shop for at least the next week. He had lived in London for the past 5 years as an artist restorer, taking old paintings and breathing new life into them once more. It was like looking into the past and build a story from there. A cleaning man his father called him, but his mother found it to be a noble cause, to find painting that had been long lost due to war or destruction. Professor Gwen Phasma was leading a project on restoring old works that were done by the infamous Kylo Ren, a German artist who sparked a love affair with a young queen. It was said that he was a deviant, who seduce the young queen into leaving her husband. When the jealous king heard about this love affair, he sent an army to chase them down. Kylo was punished for his crimes, shamed by the court and was sent to rotten in a prison. The queen died a tragic death during child birth and her child died the very next day. A rumor had spread saying that Kylo Ren had made a deal with the devil. In order for him to seek revenge for his lover, he placed a curse on the kingdom that set the king into madness and eventually he threw himself from the highest tower.  
****

However, Ben was not there to speculate on forgotten kings and queens. He was there to help restore the good name of Kylo Ren. They had been able to salvage some of him landscape works of the country side home of his childhood and had just recovered the lost portrait of King Poe Dameron. As commission by the royal family, that wanted to give light to a part of history that was lost and to Germany, by showing dedication to a great painter who had been lost.

Gwen had recruited him during an exhibition he had worked on for another painter of the renaissance. She was impressed with all the art he was able to recover and felt that his methods would be best under the interns she had under this project. Now here he was scanning in his badge as he finish off his coffee, throwing the empty cup into a nearby bin, before entering into the room with Amazonian, blonde woman and her four eager interns. 

“Well, speak of the devil,” she spoke with a crisp tone before getting up from the stool she was perched on, she towered over him in three inch heels, “this is Ben Solo, everyone. He is the main man who is in charge of this exhibition. Listen closely and take notes any chance you get.”

He nodded as he set his satchel on a nearby desk. 

“Children,” he said at the bright eyed youngsters in front of him. 

“I would hardly call them children, Solo,” Gwen laughed, “come on, everyone. Don’t be shy. His bite is not as back as his bark.”

“Kaydel Connix,” spoke the young blonde woman with her hair done up in two buns on either side, “It’s an honor to be working on a project like this.” From his assessment, she was probably destined to be a high school art teacher with with mustard button up and corduroy pants she worn. Wild enough to get drunk on two glasses of wine, but mild enough to have a passion for teaching. 

“Hi, umm... Finn Storm,” the young, black man said as he offered his hand for Ben to shake. The only male in the group. Gwen probably took him in so Ben wouldn’t feel alone. His hand was too clean to be painters hand. He must have got this internship out of pure luck, but by his grip it was clear to him that perhaps his passion lie with sculpting. He should have read the fine print better before sign up for this challenge.

“Hi, I’m Rose Tico and I’ve heard so much about you.” She was clearly a suck up. From her black rimmed glasses to the flannel blouse to her paint cover chucks, she trying way too hard to earn his affect. She lack confidence in herself and Ben felt might be a hindrance to the project.

“Rey Andor,” spoke the finally intern. When their eyes met, Ben felt a sudden rush over him. Her hazel eyes and freckle nose looked so familiar. Her hair was piled on top in a messy bun, her jeans had reminisce of acrylic paint, and her right hand was stained with some graphite on the tips. She was the true artist out of the bunch. A promising apprentice, but her eyes made him hold his breath for a minute before shaking his head and final shake her hand.

“Welcome everyone,” he said addressing them, “What we will be doing for the next three months is a very delicate process. These paintings are hundreds year old, but with our team, we can breath new life into them. Show a part of history that has been lost to the masses. Kylo Ren’s story is a tragic one, but with our help, we can restore it to its former glory.”

 **London, 1565**  
****

King Poe Dameron was a benevolent king. He ruled over his people with a stern hand and a conscious heart. His kingdom was rich and flourishing. They were at peace since ending a long war with those of the northern kingdoms. His bravery showed through as he led his armies to victory. He was loved by his people and adored by his court, but there were many who would dare judge him for his taste in lovers. Rumors from the church had spread that their king favor those of his own sex rather than those of the fairer sex. This grew with concern for the court, with the young king passing his fifth year of reign with no heir, it was time for him to find a wife.

“It would be wise, your grace, to seek out a young bride,” his red headed companion told him one night as they in the king’s bed.

“I am king, Armitage,” he said, pinning his lover’s wrist above his head, before biting his ear, “I can do as I please.”

“Yes, but it would unwise to continue your reign heirless,” the red head groaned as the king’s lips painting down his neck, “and I lack to the parts to give you one.”

“I could appoint an heir.”

“The court wants one of royal blood, your majesty,” he said, making Poe stop his journey and rest his chin on his lover’s chest, “There is a girl.”

A splendid match came from the French courts, a duchess with long trusses of auburn hair and eyes that would make spring itself envious. When she came, the English court was in awe of her beauty. Even the king was impressed with her grace and manner. She was mild and meek in his presents of the court, keeping her head low as her step-father spoke for her. Kira Leclair was her name and she was to be queen. A mere child at 19 was to rule next to a king who was nearly 10 years her senior. She did not know how to feel about this, but her mother told her to put on a brave face and be the wife that he needed her to be.

She had hardly known the king for a week when their wedding was planned for the following month. She did not know what to make of this country where Paris seemed to be more rich and vibrant, London seemed to lack in those colors the Persians seemed to like so much. However, they still celebrated with high spirits. Their union would be the start of a new age for the kingdom. Her hair was done up in intricate braids with roses weaving into her hair. Her dress was made of the finest silks with swans embroidered. The king wished for her to be in white, to emphasize on her purity. When she walked down the aisle, she catch everyone’s eye. She trembled as she walked to the alter. Her husband was dressed in gold and red with a large emerald on his pinky. She gawked at how gaudy he was as it seemed he wore his riches for all the world to see. When they kissed it was chaste, lacking in any passion. By the time they were to bed, it was when he confessed to her. 

“I must be honest, I’ve never been with a woman before,” he said as he viewed her in her nightwear. 

“I’ve never been with a man before either...” she meekly said earning a laugh from her king. 

“This marriage is only to save my reputation, my lady,” he continued, “You are here to produce an heir for me and that is it. I wish it was not this harsh, but it is true. As my wife, you will not want for anything and the people of this kingdom will love you... it’s just that... my heart already belongs to another...”

“I see,” she answered disheartened.

“If you wish to take on a lover, by all means do,” he encouraged, “you are still young and fair. You could have your pick of any of my good knights.”

“With all due respect, your grace...”

“Please, call me Poe,” he said with a charming smile. Kira looked down at her hands, feeling her heart race as the tears threatened to fall. 

“If I were to take a lover, I would disgraced by your court and punished for this sin.”

“Never,” he said taking her hand, “as we sit here tonight, I vow to never let any harm come to you.”

With that, the pair merely talked until the early morning hours as the fire slowly died until the drifted asleep onto the bed that was meant to consummate their marriage. To save face, Poe cut the palm of his hand and messed the sheets as the maids came in to clean. As a gift to their new marriage, he gave her a prize spaniel of orange and white name Bee-bee. Too small for hunting, but a fine companion for his new bride. Despite her new friendship with the king, she did find life at the castle to be lonely. Her ladies-in-waiting seemed to only be interested in the gossip of the court as they took to their stitching. There as a new artist on the rise, one from Germany who could paint with such realism that many believed his own paintings could move. His name was Kylo Ren and the king was very interesting in getting a new portrait made for him and his wife. It was said that the artist visit in the coming month and would be wine and dine until he accepted the commission. 

Although her husband did not share the chambers as her, he would visit as they would play chess or she would read to him as he played with the young spaniel. 

“Poe... I’ve never had my portrait painted before,” she confessed after she won their chess match.

“Which is why the world should see I have the most beautiful wife in the world,” he jester as he fell back on some cushions. 

“They say that this painter is cold and cruel. That his art tends to captures souls.”

“You believe he is a warlock that will steal your youth?” he chuckled, before realizing she was very serious. Paintings that could move were unheard of and though Kylo Ren was a celebrated artist, it did give her caution to fear he might try to steal her soul. 

“My dear sweet Kira,” Poe said as he took her hand to comfort her, “you have nothing to fear except that he might fail to capture the true essence of you.”

So when the time came for the artist to show, they were all surprised when he arrived on a single dark horse. Most of the novelist of artist traveled in carriages with extravagant trimmings and a mistress on their arm. Instead they were met with a man on a great stead, dressed in dark clothes with wide brim hat to block the sun and his satchel to his side. When he dismount his horse, it shown that he was a man of great height with broad shoulders, a fine mustache and goatee, and piercing brown eyes. With his thick, dark locks, prominent nose, defined cheekbones and full lips, Kira wasn’t entirely sure if she was looking upon a man or a god. If Hades were to ever to take form, this man would be it. The king welcomed the artist with open arms, shaking his hand and singing his praises. The artist was less than amused with such fanfare, but was polite nevertheless. He removed his hat and bowed to Poe, nearly making Kira gasp at how low he could bend. 

“And this is to your subject,” Poe said, gesturing towards her to come closer, “my beloved wife and queen, Kira.”

She offered her hand and curtsied to the artist as he brought her hand to his lips. They were so soft and against the back of her hand. 

“It will be my pleasure,” he said, his voice deep and low that she felt her very soul tremble from the words. Warlock or not, this man must have made a deal with the devil to make her feel so weak and flushed. 

 


	2. Poppies

**London 1565**

The queen hated the painter. The ladies of the court fawned over him with their heaving breast and flowery perfumes in hopes to seduce him. They delighted in sharing their love letters they had received from this mysterious Casanova that had only been in the courts for a week. Yet, here he was, taking tours of the gardens with countless of women. It also seemed the king took favor in the artist by inviting him to his bedchambers in the late evenings to share in whatever private moments happened between men. Him and the hand to the king, Armitage Hux, seemed to spend an awful lot of time together in private quarters. Poe has no shame, but in Rey’s mind, the artist had out stayed his welcome.   
****

“These things take time, my beloved,” Poe has told her the one night he came to visit her as she huffed about, “He needs to find inspiration if he is to do it right.”

“I haven’t seen him so much as hold a pencil let alone a brush!” she yelled as she threw a pillow at her fool of a husband, “This is a scam! He is using you to seek refuge! Or worse, to make a bigger name for himself!”

The king merely laughed as he grabbed his queen and pulled her into his arms. 

“You misjudge, my dear,” he smiled as he pushed a strand of her auburn locks, “if you like, I’ll ask him to start your portrait first.”

She looked upon the handsome face of her husband and her temper seemed reduce. In his eyes, she was able to find peace. She apologized for her outburst and allowed her husband to hold her till she fell asleep. When she awoke, she found her bed empty. No evidence of him being there, as if she had just dreamt him up. She pulled her knees close to her chest as Bee-bee joined her on the bed.

“At least I have you for company,” she said as she patted the spaniel. 

**London 2018**

Ben looked over King Dameron’s full scale portrait. He favored his curly locks more than the regal crown as it was painted near his right hand. On further inspection, his Latin descent showed with his olive skin tone and dark eyes. There were clear cracks in the paint and some that had taken off part of his chin, shoulder and brow. There was a noticeable stain where part of the ruffles of his sleeves had been distorted. The grime that seeped in took away from the red and gold in his clothes. His mouth was painted in a playful smirk. There seemed to be a haughtiness about this king that Ben have never seen in other kings. Almost as if the artist knew about his subject’s smugness and wanted show that with the twinkle in his eye. Although clearly showing off his riches from his ring to his pedant, there was something humbling about a king choosing not to wear his crown. Just from the depth of this painting, it was clear that Kylo Ren enjoyed this subject. Surprisingly enough, on the surface, it seemed the most of the original work is still intact.   
****

“What do you see, Sherlock?” Gwen asked.

“This is the original,” Ben stated, “From other portraits I’ve seen by Ren, he’s able to take a person a seal them into the paint. Quite a marvel that it’s so well intact. Where were these found?”

“Buried in an abandon abbey believe it or not,” she smiled as Ben took his glasses off, “Just gathering dust. Turns out Kylo might have sought refuge in a monastery upon his release and must have taken any paintings that weren’t burned. What’s more interesting is this trunk that was found.”

**London 1565**

Kira paced her room as her nurse, Maz, tending to her stitching. She hated the thought of being in the same room with that imposture just set her blood to boil. She would confront him head on and then, when she revealed he was a sham, she would send him packing immediately. The king would fall at her feet and beg for her forgiveness. Surely then, she might win some part of his affection. She checked her hood once more to make sure not a single strand was out of place by the time there was a knock at the door.  
****

Maz placed her stitching down, opened the door and in stepped Poe accompanied by the artist that afternoon. No paints or canvas with him, but he did have paper and pencil. Nevertheless, Kira’s guard was up. She could not be as fooled as the rest of the court.

“Your grace,” she said as she curtsied for them, “Lord Ren.”

“Not a lord, my lady,” he corrected her, “but you flatter me.”

She frowned and had to keep herself from glaring at the smirking devil. He might have been able to bewitch her ladies into thinking he is some worldly man with no ties, but they’ll see.

“No canvas,” she noted, “I thought you were to paint my portrait.”

“Yes, love,” Poe answered as he took her arm, leading her out of her room, “but Kylo would like to sketch you first.”

“What for?” she asked as they walked down the hall.

“It is all part of the process,” he said, “Kylo feels it’s a way to truly see you. To actually capture your soul.”

That final sentence gave her great pause. The rumors she had heard before sent into endless nightmares where she saw a great shadowy beast towering over her, ready to devour her, take her soul and leave her an empty husk. When she turned her head back towards the artist, he seemed to smirk as if knowing what she was thinking about. She turned back towards her husband.

“I… I don’t think we should do mine first,” she said as she tried to pull away.

“Nonsense,” he replied with a smile as they entered the library, “where did you say again?”

“Over by that window, sire,” Kylo said pointing towards the large bay window, “It has the best lighting in the afternoon.”

A chair was place for her with an extra cushion. As Kira took her seat, Poe was ready to take his leave.

“Don’t go,” she whispered as she tugged on his sleeve like a child to its mother.

“You’ll be fine,” Poe said as he kissed the top of her head, “If there is anyone woman he should be left alone with, it’s you.”

**London 2018**

The trunk had seen better day, but it served as a great preserver as the young brunette intern delicate opened it. A musky, foul oder filled the air as Finn cough from the foul smell.   
****

“God, that’s awful,” he remarked.

“That’s history,” Gwen said with glee as she approached the opened chest, “Gloves on everyone. What we’re about to see is nearly 500 years old. Handle with great care. Anything we can salvageable is for the museum to display or to archive.”

She started by a heap of letter bound in a faded ribbon. 

“Kaydel, I’ll have you start with these,” she handed them over. Kaydel took them over to one of observation tables. 

Next was a Bible.

“Standard Latin is what it looks like,” Gwen said as looked over the binding, “Still could worth something. Finn, you know anything about book binding?”

“I mean I took a class on it in the summer…”

“Excellent, you can work at that,” she handed him the Bible sent him on his way. There was an old rosary with a few beads missing, dried up paints, old paint brushes that had seen better days, and finally was an old sketch book.

“Perfect,” Gwen smiled as she thumbed through the pages, Ben looking over her shoulder.

“Not a single page damaged,” Ben noted, “We could easily take it apart for further examination. Scan a few of them for record.”

“Oh look at the detailing on this poppy,” she pointed out, “It’s almost perfect from the petals to stem. Near lifelike, wouldn’t you say?”

Ben took the sketch for a closer examination. There was something strange about the patterns on each petal that even when he squinted he couldn’t make it out.

“There’s something else here, Gwen,” he said, “Looks like letters or strange markings maybe. Right here on the center petal.”

He took the paper to his station, he took out a magnifying glass and looked over the petal.

“It’s French,” he said almost baffled, “Why would a German artist want to bother writing words on a poppy in French?”

**London 1565**

Kira sat on the chair as the artist looked her over, occasionally looking down at his paper, but his eyes were all over her. It made her wish she had chosen to bring a shawl with her or that she had perhaps thought of a different gown to wear. She shivered when she felt his eyes lingering too long on her neck.  
****

“Are you cold, you majesty?” Kylo asked as he paused from his work.

“Just a chill,” she replied as her eyes went back to burrowing into the wall. It felt like ages of her just sitting while she was being looking upon. Not even the other men of the court seemed to look at her with intent. Yet, here she was, alone in a room with a man who was but a stranger to her, just staring at her like she was Venus herself. It was the intensity of his gaze that made her heart flutter. It was a look that made her cheeks warm and her breath quicken. She did not like this feeling at all.

“You have a lovely color to your cheeks,” he noted, “Your neck is long, but it makes for a good length because it helps your shoulders align so perfectly. You come from good breeding. I can see why the king chose you for a great cover.”

“I beg your pardon?” she snapped, her eyes glaring back at him.

“If I’m not mistaken, his head doesn’t quite turn your way when enter into a room,” he continued with a knowing smirk, not at all threaten by the young queen, “I’ve been invited to his chambers. I know of the company he likes to keep.”

“You know nothing.” Her hands gripped her skirt, hoping to stop her from what she was about to do. 

“And you do being married to him for not even a season?” he challenged, “You might as well be a trained poodle that sits on his lap.”

Kira stood from her chair and slapped Kylo across the face.

“You hold your tongue! I don’t care who you are, how great you are or if you were God himself, but you are talking to a queen! And my husband is a good man with a great heart who took a scare child and made her feel like she mattered!” Her voice echoed in the room as the man, stunned by her actions. Perhaps he had never been slapped before. Perhaps he figured he could play her like a harp and she wouldn’t think twice, but Kira had one thing that most women didn’t have and that was pride, pride in herself, her husband and her kingdom. She was not going to let some pompous man. 

She left the library and did not stop till she was back in her own chambers. She closed the door behind before she began to breathe again. She tried to calm herself. She had allowed her temper to get the best of her. And if word got back to the king… She was shaking and fell onto her bed as the tears started to fall. Whether to jest or to arouse a reaction, Kylo’s words did hit her to the core. She would never find favor with the king as a true love. The only kiss they ever truly shared was as husband and wife and he made no attempts to woo her with affection. She might as well be a sister to him than a desirable woman. Then again, she did not have the ginger hair or green eyes his husband seemed to adore so much. No. She was live a loveless life, married to man who didn’t care for her sex.

**London 2018**

Ben stared over the poppy tireless as he tried to decipher the small text. If this was to elude to the affair he had with Queen Kira, why do it this way? It seemed so over the top to go to such lengths in order to show signs of affection. Then again, he was imprisoned for kidnapping her. Perhaps whatever madness ailed the king probably affected Kylo.  
****

“Mind if I have a look?” came a soft, crisp British voice, turning him away from the paper. He was met with a pair of bright hazel eyes of a young woman who was itching to do something.

“Be my guest,” he said and gestured towards the magnifier.

He watched as Rey studied over the picture, worrying her lip as she delicately turned the paper.

“Ô dous regars, ô yeus pleins de beauté,” she murmured, “Petis iardins, pleins de fleurs amoureuses… Oh…”

“Oh?”

“It’s a poem,” she with delight as she pulled out her phone and typed away, “The queen was French, if I remember, and had a love for French literature. She favored fairy tales and at times would read poem. Ah… Here it is Sonnet 11 by Louise Labe´.”

She handed her phone to him after finding the poem. Putting his glasses back on, Ben read over the sonnet.

“So, Kylo just happened to know that she favored French poetry?”

“It’s a possibility. Even long after he was commission of the portraits were done, Kylo was in such high regards with the king that he stayed in London for nearly 5 years before he descended into chaos,” Rey said, “It was said the queen hated Kylo so much, that she wanted to out him as a fraud and have him shamed before the court.”

“Then why the sudden change? If he did stay as long as he did, why would the queen tolerate something like that?”

“Did you not read the sonnet?” Rey asked with a little giggle, “He was infatuated with her. She was young and the king only married her to save face, if you believe he was a homosexual. It’s possible that he was the first man to show her a liking. I mean being a 19 year old girl and virgin, she probably enjoyed this kind of attention. So, perhaps him being taken by her beauty, he didn’t know how to express it without getting caught. Maybe this was suppose to be a message to her that never got delivered.”

Ben looked over at the young intern, who stared back at the poppy drawn. Her cheeks colored with a blush as if she was fantasizing something.

“The effort he went through to get every word and yet make it almost go unnoticeable,” she smiled before meeting his gaze, “it’s almost romantic.”

**Lodon 1565**

The following morning, Kira arouse with a heavy heart. She was in no mood for an audience, yet her husband requested her company at court as he was to knight a new lord. A new lord who will probably share the same bed as him. It was a sad truth that the young queen had to accept. She would never be loved by a man, because men seemed to easily love their king more. As her hood was being placed on her head, a knock at her door alerted her.  
****

“Oh what now,” she muttered.

A page boy opened and bowed before her and her ladies.

“A bouquet, my lady,” he said as he handed her the bundled of white poppies, tied together in a red ribbon.

“From my husband?” Kira asked as her face was riddled with confusion. The king only gifted her jewels or gowns, never would he bring her flowers.

“He wishes to be anonymous,” the boy answered, “but he wishes to offer his apologizes. He did not mean to offend you.”

A spark of enlightenment hit her when she found a folded note tucked in ribbon. Her heart seemed to flutter at the thought of a pair of dark eyes flashed in her mind.

“Is your anonymous friend requesting an answer?” asked one of her ladies.

“No, he just hopes to earn the queen’s favor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sonnet Xi by Louise Labe is beautiful and yet sad poem. Reading it over more, I felt that it would be great reference to have in there. Again, I'm doing the best I can with the research I can find and I'm mainly inspired by WaterlilyRose. I'm a sucker for historical romance and their work is just wonderful. Thanks again to everyone who has read this so far. Thanks for the comments and kudos, they help me out a lot. If you wondering about Knot-4-U, I'll get back on that soon as well Letters to the Girls I've Loved and Constellations and Star Bursts. Wow... I have way too much on my plate. Anyways, kay, thanks, bye.


	3. Eve's Temptation

**London 2018**

“Coffee?” Rey offered as Ben look up from the king’s portrait.  
****

“Umm… sure. Thank you, Miss Andor?” he questioned, not entirely sure he got her name right.

“Rey is fine,” she smiled as he took the drink. She seemed to already know his order despite only doing a coffee run for the group once. He figured his was the easiest to remember. Black, two creams, two sugars.

“How’s our forgotten king looking?” she asked as she looked over the slow cleaning process.

With the separation of paint and canvas, it was going to be a very long process to keep the painting intact. Already the painting had been removed from the stretcher to access the damage of the to the canvas. The back had been cleaned dust, dirt or sand that it might had accumulated and now Ben was working on repairing any tears the canvas may have experienced while being locked away. The bridging process always came off as a chore, but was needed to be done if they were to save this piece.

“I hadn’t noticed that the was a puncture near his eye or the one above his chest. There were a few tears, but that comes with age. The punctures do seem deliberate though,” Ben said as he pointed them out to Rey.

“A scorned lover that could only take out his anger on a painting of a man who cause,” Rey said as she looked over his handy work, “Have you only worked with Renaissance paintings?”

“I’ve done conservation for new artists. Clean painting for churches and other collectors,” he said after a sip, “This is probably the oldest painting I’ve worked on.”

“Must be fascinating to work on,” she remarked, “Almost like your preserving a piece of history.”

Ben raised an eyebrow. Why would this girl be so interested in what he does? He knows the interns at the end of the week, hit up the local pubs and perhaps maybe a club depending on the night, but art preservation didn’t seem to interest any of them. He had the gripes and groans. He knew they hated the tedious task, especially Rey. He had seen her work on the letters with Kaydel and seemed more antsy that it was taking them so long to decipher them. He had watched moved from station to station to watch everyone. Whenever they needed someone to go for coffee she was the first one to volunteer. During extended breaks, while their group huddle in the cafeteria to talk, she would have her nose down as she drew away in her sketch book. How she got this internship, he’ll never know, but it was clear she was already bored. 

“Are you sucking up to me, Miss Andor?” Ben asked.

“I’m sorry…”

“If you’re expecting something out of this, like a letter of recommendation, Gwen would be the better person to talk to,” he nodded over at the tall woman who was critiquing Finn’s work on the bible, “This is her project after all. I’m just the cleaner.”

**London 1565**

Kira stood outside the artist’s chambers as she clutch his note in hand. She had been too upset to read it and had planned on tearing it up. Yet, the flowers were nice. She had never received a gift so intimate. Even after flowers had wilted, she saved the petals in her bible, pressing them into the pages. The ribbon she kept tucked away in a drawer and here she stood with a note that had yet to be read with her heart racing. Surly he will laugh in her face for thinking too much into it. She took a deep breath and raised her hand to knock, only for him to open before she had a chance. She quickly tucked her hands behind her as he stared in surprise.  
****

“Your majesty,” he said and bowed, “What an honor it is to see you.”

Kira swallowed hard as his darks eyes met her. There was that intense look again, like a lion accessing its prey.

“I… umm…” she forgot how to speak as she watched the corner of his mouth start to curl. He did think to mock her. Not even know the contents of his note, he was sparking her temper when she thought he was offering peace. She was ready to spit in his face when the voice of one of her ladies called Kylo.

“My darling… oh your grace,” she curtsied low and kept her face from meeting the queen, for fear of embarrassment.

“What brings you to this man’s chambers?” Kira asked as her eyes darted from the artist to the lady.

“Oh, Lord Ren had asked for me to read poetry to him in the garden this morning,” she answered quickly.

“And that requires you to come to this man’s chamber unaccompanied?”

“Uh… no, your grace.”

“And a hartlot in my court shall not be tolerated! If your father wishes to keep good face, might I suggest you do not come to a man’s chamber unless he is your husband,” Kira bit and sent the young lady on her way, “As for you,” she turned towards Kylo with a pointed gaze, “flowers and poetry may work on them, but not on me.”

“If you don’t mind me saying,” Kylo said as he stepped out of his room, invading her space, “if flowers and words of passion don’t work on you, then why is your grace standing outside my chambers?”

Her eyes grew big as he took her hand from behind her back. He brought up to his lips and kissed.

“You should allow yourself to indulge in the pleasures of the skin, your majesty,” he said in a low tone as he stared into her soul, his thumb stroking her skin, “Your husband does. It’s only fair that you do as well. I know how cold a bed can be alone.”

She took her hand back, glared at him and stalked away. She tucked the note quickly into her bosom before he had a chance to see. He was a menace, the Devil himself in disguised and he must go. 

**London 2018**

Ben tacked on the final nail onto the painting back onto its stretcher before placing it back in its drawer.  Gwen has approached him about a few other paintings that had brought in from Germany. No word if there was the portrait of the young queen in that mix, but all of the work seemed promising. There were a few more from the abandoned abbey as well that had been found in the well preserved storage area and a man by the name of Willhuff Tarkin was interested in the collection. He had been in contact with Gwen about how the process was going and would be interested in buying any paintings that weren’t going to be archived. Although art collectors seemed to make Ben wry, there was something that seemed respectable about someone taking interest in a defamed artist like Kylo Ren and Tarkin did have a big name when it came to sponsoring projects like this. Still, he would have to wait until the king’s portrait was done before he could place a price on the lot.

He threw on his overcoat and scarf before turning out the lights. Once he grabbed his bag, he double checked to make sure the door was locked. The security guard wished him a good night as he left the facility before seeing Rey perched on a wall where the stairs were as she sketched under the lamppost. 

 

“Miss Andor?” he called. 

“I told you you could call me Rey,” she said not looking up from her paper, “You’re not my professor or my boss, so there is no need for you to be so formal.”

“I’m still your superior,” he said sternly. 

“In that you’ve been doing this longer than me?” she smirked finally looking at him. Ben glared. He wasn’t going engaged in such a childish argument. He already did that with his parents and uncle when they said he was wasting his talents, he wasn’t going to bother with this woman. 

“Goodnight, Miss Andor,” and he continued down the street. He heard her jump down and follow after him, but he chose not to acknowledge her. 

“Yes, I will admit that I do find the restoration process boring, but at least you’re doing something fun,” she started as she was trying to keep pace with him, “You are bringing a piece of history that has been long forgotten back to life and helping bring glory back to an artist who was called a scoundrel. From the letters it seemed, that he had a lover. Someone seemed to actually care for him or at least show affection.”

Ben continued to walk till he got the crosswalk and waited for the light. 

“So, if it was the queen he seduced, then perhaps all the allegations of rape are false.”

“What are you talking about?” Ben asked as they crossed, growing increasingly annoyed. 

“I’m saying we are doing more than bring back forgotten art to the world. We are bringing justice to a man who was wronged,” she said. 

**London 1565**

Kira sat alone in the private chapel. She stared up at the beautiful Madonna as hope to find solace. She was lost, her soul was slowly crumbling as she tried again to seek her husband’s affection in the late night. She threw herself at him, flinging her arms in hopes to spark something, but he stepped back in horror, nearly threw her to the floor.  
****

_“You know your place,”_ he said sternly, _“You are my wife, but nothing more. You are to bear me an heir when the time comes. If you seek affection, find a servant who you can pay to keep quiet!”_

To be married, doesn’t mean she would find happiness. The next day, he sent her a new necklace as an apology for his outburst. She threw it out the window the moment she had the chance. Now, she sat in the pew, her cheeks stained with tears as she felt she had done nothing but cry since leaving her home in France. She sent a letter to her mother asking to seek sanctuary for a while, to see the country side, but her mother called her foolish and needed to be reminded of her place. Her true place… She is not French… she is Queen to the Brits and a wife to a fool. A woman who was no better than a prize heifer to a farmer. She looked down in her hand still holding the secret note the artist had sent her. He was persistence and seemed to find her no matter where she was. He wished to continue the sketches, but she feigned illness whenever she could, to keep her far away from that devil. Yet the devil lived in temptation. That’s how Eve fell, when he whispered into her ears. Man fell because she gave into pretty words. Would the queen do the same? Would he not be a paid servant though he dines with royalty?

With a deep breathe, she started to unfold the note before the opening of the chapel door spooked her. Tucking the note back into her bosom, she quickly began drying her face. The hand of the king entered in with his tall demeanor and noble air. Her husband’s true lover, a man she probably despised more than the artist. He came to her side and bowed. 

“Your majesty,” Armitage started, “it is unwise for you to be alone.”

“This is a place of God,” she said, “nothing unholy would ever happen here and if it did, then send them to Hell for eternal damnation.”

He chuckled at her statement before taking a seat next to her.

“Clever girl,” he said as his Irish tone started peeking out, “You were truly the best for the king. It’s a pity he’s a very wasteful king. He has no appreciation for true beauty.”

She didn’t like how close he was leaning in or how his eyes drifted down to her bosom. When she went to stand, he grasped her wrist.

“Let go,” she said, trying to turn herself away, but instead he pulled her into his lap.

“You smell like roses, so pure and so soft,” he growled as his lips brushed against her neck. She wriggled more, trying to break away but it only made his grip stronger. He twisted her arm behind her back, making her arch forward as his other hand skimmed over her chest. “Don’t fight or else it will hurt more.” 

He pulled at her skirt. Kira closed her eyes as she trembled. Not here. This not what she wanted. Had he come as a scorned lover?

“Please… I… I won’t try again… He’s yours… just let me go… I’ll give you anything… Just don’t…”

“You think I care for the king?” Armitage chuckled darkly as he turned her head towards him, his green eyes cold and unfeeling, “I could have my way with you and he’d still gift me a province. And I’ll delight in being the first taste of you.”

“Are you lost, Herr Hux?” came a booming voice from the back, making them both turn, “Your majesty, I had hoped to find you, but I’m afraid the chapel just won’t do. Follow me to the garden. The lighting there is perfect.”

Kylo approached the pew where the pair sat and extended his hand towards her. 

“Please, your grace,” he said. 

“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Armitage snapped, “Know your place peasant and leave.”

“She is the queen,” Kylo replies sharply as if he drew a sword, “She will choose what to do.”

Kira took the moment to break free for Armitage’s hold and made a dash from the chapel. Pass the gardens where servants stared, down the hall where her ladies try to stop her, but didn’t stop till she was safe in her room. She couldn’t breathe as she called for Maz. The elder woman helped her out her gown and she tossed her hood to the floor before she fainted. The world went dark by the time her body hit the floor. 

**London 2018**

Rey sat on the bench across from Ben with her headphones in as she continued to sketch. The tube was still the worst commute, but at least at night it was less crowded. Ben watched as she furrowed her brow as she seemed to be working on the same spot since they left the facility. With sigh, he got up from his spot and went to take the spot next to her. He heard the heavy smashing of cymbals and trashing of guitars which seemed remnant of his days as a metal head. Looking over her shoulder, he final saw the sketch she was working on. It seemed to be a replication of the king’s portrait, but instead of a playful smirk, his mouth was open with a serpent’s tongue, a ring hung from his nose and horns grew from his forehead. He tapped her on her shoulder to get her attention and she pulled her headphones to her neck.   
****

“His chin is off,” he said as he continued to look over her work, “The curls need more flow to them, they look almost flat. And his nose a bit too pointed... overall it’s not bad.”

“How would you fix it then?” Rey asked as she shoved the sketchbook into his hand. Ben liked a challenge as he pulled out a red pencil from his bag and began marking corrections.

“Eyes are too close,” he muttered, “To fix the chin, use guide lines, even if your subject is at an angle. I do like the added tongue and horns, but if you’re going for the traditional devil look, ram’s horns curve around the either side of the head and you want use crosshatching to give it that horn look.”

He spent the rest of the trip look over his work as Rey smiled and eyed him from time to time till the sketch was interlaced with red and gray pencil marks. They nearly missed their stop after Ben’s teaching moment. Rey gladly took her book back and tucked it under her arm as the exited the subway and walked towards the stairs. Ben started to ramble on about artist who liked to take paintings from early eras and spray paint them on buildings with new interpretations of the work. 

“Dali is a good example,” he went on, “I saw one in Boston where they took his clock piece and instead replaced it with different smart phone.”

“Sounds really fascinating,” Rey giggled as Ben blushed. 

“I’m sorry, Miss Andor. I didn’t mean to take time from your work.”

“Nah... this is just something I do in my free time,” she said, “but Boston sounds really nice.”

“I mean it’s nice if you like noisy, rude people.”

“Not a place for an artist like yourself?”

“I’m not an artist.”

“I don’t know,” Rey nodded towards her sketchbook, “My drawing says otherwise.”

Ben stood baffled as the young woman looked up at him. Her eyes held a wonderment that he couldn’t describe. It almost felt like the first time he drew a portrait of his mother. She was proud of him or at least amazed by him.

“An artist has to know how to handle paintings,” Rey said as she started to walk away, “but that’s just my opinion. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Clean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 600 hits and I'm just now posting chapter 3, what is this? I tried to spice up the drama a little more. Give it more of an edge to it. I'm glad there are a lot of people enjoying this story. I want see it through. I have a passion for history and Reylo. Thanks again everyone for the support.


	4. Understanding History

**London 1565**

Kira woke with her mind in a fog. The sun in her room was too bright and there was faint ringing in her ear. She rubbed the smog from her eyes as she adjusted her focus. When she turned her, she found on the table near the window a vase filled with poppies. Maz entered the room and gave the young queen.   
****

“Bonjour votre majesté,” the elder nurse greeted as she brought a tray of food toward her bed.

“What happen?” Kira asked as she slowly sat herself up. 

“You came into you bedchamber paler than a ghost,” she answered as she set the tray on Kira’s lap, “You almost tore your gown off before you fell. I called for the medic and the king was notified.”

“Where is he now?” 

“In his room, I guess,” Maz plumped her pillow, “Master Ren waited outside for most of the night. I had to send him away when he fell asleep at your door. A page just dropped off those flowers with a letter just before you woke.”

Kira eyed the flowers one more as she stirred her porridge.

“Did he say who they were?” she asked. 

“Afraid not, madame,” Maz walked over to the table, handed Kira the note and looked back, “whoever they are, they clearly are fond of you.”

**London 2018**

Ben looked over the portrait of the king as he start to bring life back into the painting. He a step back to make sure he wasn’t adding anything that would seem out of place. Artists who did restoration tend to dip into adding their own flare on a piece, a slight wink to only those who might notice. It was a fine line they tend to walk before getting a piece thrown out before even being shown. He had lost respect with many colleagues who did such things.   
****

“I liked my version better,” whispered Rey as she was passing through to her observation table.

“Of course you would,” he answered with a small smile, “umm... Miss Andor, when you have the chance, I would actually like for you to work on a piece.”

“Seriously?” She asked with glee, “But isn’t Phasma in charge of this project?”

“It's a small painting and Gwen has mentioned for one of your art projects you focused on landscapes,” Ben said as he stepped closer to her, “In Kylo’s time at the abbey, he did nothing but paint the countryside in Bamberg.”

Her smile grew as she nodded. 

“Yes, I’d love to.”

**London 1565**

Kira stayed in her room for the rest of the day. She wished not to be disturbed, still feeling ill from her fall. She mainly stared out her window. She took in the outside wonder as the sky subtly changed from blue to orange to pink to purple. It was same sky in her home, but it did not have the same vividness. Everything in England was more bleak and dull. She missed the brightness. Her thoughts were interrupted as Maz returned with supper.   
****

“The king misses you, Madame,” she said as she began to set the table.

“The king is a lair and he lies with a monster,” Kira hissed as spat on the ground, “I hate them all. The British! The Irish! I am no more than a prize poodle!”

“Please watch your tone,” Maz warned as she came to the queen’s side to help her to the table, “These walls have ears. Anyone who hears will wish to ruin you.”

“I don’t care anymore!” She threw the bowl of broth against the wall before throwing herself onto her bed, “I would much rather die then spend one more day here. Lock me away in the tower. At least I’ll be happier there than putting on this charade.”

She wept as her nurse comforted her. She cried into Maz’s arms as she tried to calm her from her hysteria. Then there was a knock at her chamber door.

“Who is it?” Maz called.

“Kylo Ren,” answered the voice from the other side, “I wish to know if my subject is well.”

“I’ll send him away, Mamour,” Maz whispered as she got up to answer the door.

“No,” Kira said as she stood, “hand me my robe.”

Once she was covered, she nodded at Maz to open the door. He acknowledged the nurse before being stunned at the sight of the queen. Her hair was done in a loose braid as she wore a simple silk robe of blue. The soft lighting of the candles in her room gave him great pause as he took every inch on her. She pulled the neck of her robe closer together. She may have Maz, but she was nearing 60 and the artist was a good foot smaller than the towering deviant. 

“Well,” she said impatiently, “are you satisfied?”

“I’m merely please to see the color has come back to your cheeks,” he said softly, “as beautiful as a fresh picked apple.”

His gaze was much softer as a small smile curled on his lips, though it could be a trick on his mustache.

“My nurse tells me you stayed outside my door last night. Why is that?”

“For your well being, my lady,” he said as though he was offended.

“So you could find the chance to mock me again?”

“I do believe I have said some unkind words to you, however, they’re not untrue,” he said, “but now is not the time for debate. I wish to not upset you anymore…” he paused to find the right words to say, “Your husband’s portrait is almost done and if I remember correctly, he asked for two.”

“Why not paint Armitage?” Kira asked as her brow furrowed, “He’s more of a wife than I am.”

“Not even for all of the king’s riches would I paint that man,” he said his voice turning to a darker tone, “He deservers to be torn apart by the hunting dogs than to be in the same room as you. He is not worthy to be held as high as you.”

His teeth were gritted till the last word was out as he balled his fist. Kira was taken back and must have shown fright, because his face and hand relaxed.

“Forgive me, your majesty. I’ve spoken out of turn,” Kylo said, “I bid you a good night and hope to see you tomorrow.”

After Kylo bowed, he turned towards the door to make his leave.

“Master Kylo,” he paused and faced the queen once more, “my husband’s portrait is nearly done? May I look upon it? I wish to see your work.”

“It would be an honor,” Kylo answered.

**London 2018**

Ben kept a safe distance as he watched Rey slowly apply solvents to the painting. She worked in small circles with each section, replacing her cotton swabs when they were dirty. Rey favored her biting her bottom lip as she concentrated. It was fun to see her sweat when she took the painting off of its stretcher for the first time. Ben had showed her how to remove the nails and she feared her touch might be too rough. He showed her how to check for tears and she took notes like his word was gospel to be share to the masses. Luckily the painting had only suffered minor chipping, so clean up would be easy.  
****

“God my hand hurts,” she sighed as she rolled her wrist, “How much longer again?”

“You’re nearly there,” he said after a sip of his coffee, “Once we have her clean, we can start working on touch ups, every restoration artist’s favorite part.”

“She?” Rey giggled,”There’s not a person in the painting. How can you just assume its gender?”

“Zu meiner Mohnblume, mögest du immer durch Widrigkeiten blühen,” he said as he delicately lifted the painting to show the writing on the back, “Well, we could say he had a thing for the king, but wouldn’t make any sense, because why dedicate a painting to a man that imprisoned you?”

“So you believe the rumors then?”

“And there is that curiosity again, Miss Andor,” he warned as he turned his head towards her, “Beside, any landscape that has flowers is always a girl.”

**London 1565**

Kira stood in the library as she waited for Kylo. This was silly. She shouldn’t have asked for this. To be alone with a man that many of the ladies had fawned over and he who had been persistent to get her alone. Maz has offered to accompanied her, but Kira refused. She had instead tucked small knife under her sleeve just in case his intentions turned out to be like that sniveling weasel. Kylo walked in with the portrait and his easel. He began to set up as Kira took in his appearance. He was rather clean for someone who works with color. His clothes were more fine than before he came. Perhaps her husband had gifted new clothes, but it was nothing too extravagant like the other lords she had seen and certainly not bold statement of Armitage. Instead he always wore dark colors favoring black the most. The only jewelry he wore was a single ring on his pinky finger, one the was too delicate for a man his size. He must have taken a lover with one her ladies. She had seen him often with Bazine, a sultry being no man could refuse. However, the ring did not seem her style, it was far too plain. Then there was his hair, dark, thick and wavy. She had hear tales from her ladies how soft it is. The satisfaction of running one’s hands through it is enough pleasure to keep you stated for a week. Kira wondered how wonderful hair could be if that’s the only physical contact you needed. He turned towards her when he was ready and took a he step back, revealing not the portrait, but instead what looked like her home.   
****

“Ça, alors,” she gasped as she looked at the countryside. It looked every bit like the valley she would often play in as a child from the mountains in the distances to the lake she would swim in to the poppies that populated the field. She was stunned. Her eyes started to water as she covered her mouth.

“Your nurse may have mentioned to the king how homesick you had been,” Kylo said, “I might have overheard the conversation. He has ordered more gowns that are in fashion in the Persian courts. I decided to try and recreate home. I hope I’ve not over stepped my boundaries, your grace.”

“Why?” Kira asked, “I’ve been nothing but cruel to you since you’ve been here. You could have let that bastard of man have his way with me and this... I don’t understand. What game are you play, Master Ren.”

“It is I who should be apologizing, your grace,” he answered as tears fell down her face, “I had no idea the treatment you were receiving here. I thought I would jest because it’s clear you are no damsel like your ladies are. However your husband needs to know he has a snake in his court.”

“What can I do?” she asked, “I am no one.”

“Last you told me you are the queen,” he said as he offer a handkerchief, “You demand respect and he will give it to you.”

“How?”

“You’re a clever one,” he smirked, “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

**London 2018**

In surveying Rey’s work as she started with the poppies in the foreground, she waited on bated breath while Ben looked it over.   
****

“It’s the wrong color,” said he has he pointed with his pencil, “Look at the difference between this poppy and the one you just fixed, it’s more mute than this one you painted. What makes them stand out more is dusting of yellow in the ones that are on the edge here.”

He watched her face fall as she let out a sigh. 

“It’s okay,” he reassured her, “These things take time. It’s all trail and error. In order for us to recreate history, we have to understand it. When this painting was created, he probably didn’t have the colors we have today. We just have to remind ourselves that this not our work.”

“Right,” she answered as she looked over the landscape. She seemed so disheartened as if she had blatantly destroyed the piece or Ben had told her she had messed up the entire thing. Ben swallowed and looked back at the piece. 

“Good thing is that you’re able to imitate his strokes,” he praised, “Most have to start on paper or another canvas to get it just right, but you just looked at it and could just do it. If anything, the brighter poppies look like they're meant to be there.”

“Still the wrong color though,” she worried her bottom lip, “I didn’t mean to ruin it...”

“You didn’t ruin anything, Rey,” he said calmly as he placed a hand on her shoulder, “The piece is still intact. We’ll just have to play around with the colors.”

A smile formed on her face as she turned towards him. 

“So am I your equal now?”

“I beg your pardon?” He was confused as she turned to face him with a playful twinkle in her eye. 

“You called me Rey, Mr. Cleaner,” she teased, “This is a big step in our relationship seeing that before you were my superior. So does that make us equals?”

He took a step back as he felt the tips of his ears start to burn. Her lips pulled back in a bright smile that nearly made his heart skip a bit. A part of him had seen such a radiate smile before, but it seemed like a distance memory. A smile of delight and warmth, that was meant to ignite the soul in merriment where they could lay in a field of poppies, embracing each other as they laughed. _She always liked poppies._ He shook his head and cleared his throat. 

“I believe it’s time for lunch,” he said and walked away. 

**London 1565**

Poe has come to visit as they played a round of chess. He had expressed he was happy to see that his wife was doing much better. The seasons were slowly changing which meant it was time to talk about the changes needed in the marital status. The court had been whispering of an heir. They watched the queen’s stomach for any changes, but she still remained the same size since their wedding three months ago.   
****

“They seem to be under impression that an heir shall be born in the spring,” he said as he moved his bishop, “Armitage feels as though it would be the best time.”

Kira had to reframe herself from rolling her eyes as she move her knight. 

“And what do you feel, my lord?” she asked.  

“That we’ll have a child who will be envied by the world,” he chuckled as he moved his rook, “Check.”

“I feel having a child now would not be in your best interest,” she said, trying to turn him away from the idea, “You're still very young, my lord. A child would only be a hindrance to your status. Let us wait the year. The court will have an heir soon enough.”

“And yet that is why you’re here,” he remarked as he leaned back in his chair as she moved her king, “That was an unwise move,” he moved his knight again, “Check.”

“Only because you are very predictable,” she smirked and took his queen with her rook, “Checkmate.”

He stared stunned. This was the first time she had won a chess match. 

“You have a habit of leaving your queen defenseless, yet she is the only one who can provide what you need,” she toyed with the white piece in her hand as she stared down her husband, “I know of your affairs. I know the company you keep, but I also know that you are blinded by your own title that you don’t see those that wish to make a mockery of you.”

“Hold your tongue, woman,” he said as he stood. 

“No I won’t!” she challenged back, “I am more than just a woman to look pretty on your arm or a bitch to bear a litter! I am your equal! No one is above the queen! No knight, no lord and no hand of the king will have more status than me! It’s written in law! Your law!”

The king took a step back as she encroached in his space like a lioness ready to kill. Never had she seen a man more scared in her life. It was almost empowering.

“I want you to understand this. When it is time for us to have an heir, it will be my choice, not yours or the courts. I’ll be the one bearing this burden. Have I made myself clear? If not, I’ll throw myself from the tallest tower and the world will know that their king drove their queen to do so,” she threaten, “I’ll make sure they hang Armitage for his sins before the dethrone you of yours.”

He shook his head and fell to her feet, kneeling before as if she was God.

“Please, I beg of you, don’t. You are so beautiful. Even I am envious of how the men gaze upon you. I’ll do anything, just don’t harm yourself,” he said and kissed her skirt.

She could help, but smirk at this.

“Then you’ll not call on him anymore,” she said, “Armitage is never allowed in your chambers and should never be seated at your table.”

“My love?”

“It would be unwise for you the show him more favoritism than your queen. I feel his garbs are more expensive than my silks,” Kira said as she turned towards her table to serve them some wine, “and he should have a wife. A man of his status should have kin of his own. What of your cousin Margaret? She is of age is she not?”

She bit back a laugh at the thought of the weasel being married to the sow who was often had second helpings during meals.

“Margaret?”

“Yes,” she handed him his glass as she joined him on the floor, “She has the proper hips for bearing children and an ample bosom to feed them. Armitage will have an army before you know it.”

Marriage would be the best revenge for a man who believed he was better than the queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 800 hits and 80 kudos, I am truly impressed. Thank you all so much for reading this. I honestly don't know what to say. The comments have been great and the support has been amazing. Thank you guys for this. It really means a lot to me. <3
> 
> Zu meiner Mohnblume, mögest du immer durch Widrigkeiten blühe: to my poppy, may you always flourish through adversity.


	5. Secret Brotherhood Assassin Group

**London 2018**

Ben slowly looked over the sketches that he had laid out. It was clear that Kylo was doing a study of the body for many of his subjects were nudes. Many of them were women as he looked over the more delicate parts of the body with soft curves and curls. Kylo’s attention to detail was impressive. Soon he found a full body sketch. She had feminine face, long hair tucked behind her ear and shoulder. She sat in a lush chair as she hugged her knee close to her chest. Her head rested on her knee with a flirtatious glint in her eye towards her artist, despite how she tried to shrink her body. She sat as if she was afraid he would be displeased with it or as a way to not show him everything, to leave more to the imagination. He spot the the dark shading from behind her as if perhaps this was drawn by a fireplace. From his perspective, there seemed to be something soft about this piece. From the other studies, Kylo never bothered with the faces. Here, he could see ever lash and freckle on this model’s face. The other bodies had some harsh lines where in the study showed no sign of harness. He was taking his time, never wanting to miss a single thing, as if wanting to imprint this body forever to this paper. There was love that seeped into this piece that almost made Ben blush. She have a level of trust with Kylo that she was willing to let him see all of her and he wanted to take his time with every part with her. It almost didn’t feel right for him to even glance at this piece.  
****

_Meine perfekte Mohnblume_ was written in the right corner of it. So this piece had a name and if they approved, Ben felt it would get displayed like the paintings.

“Tarkin was impressed with the portrait!” Gwen cried as she kicked off her heels and paraded in their office with a bottle of champagne, “He’s ready to sponsor the project and we’ll have a showing by the spring! Come on everyone! Let’s celebrate!”

Kaydel grabbed some spare Solo cups as Finn took open the champagne. 

“Point it away from the tables, Mr. Storm,” Ben warned as he adjusted the young man’s aim, “The last thing is damaging all the work we’ve done so far. Miss Tico put up the letters and Miss Andor help me with the sketches.”

Rey gladly jumped to any chance to help Ben. Each piece was seal away to help with preservation. She paused at the full body sketch of the young woman and almost seemed to tremble. Finn looked over her shoulder at the sketch and whistled. 

“When did you pose for that one, Rey?” he asked as she smacked his shoulder. 

“It’s not me, you ninny,” she barked earning a laugh from her friend. 

“Clearly, unless you’re living a double life,” he continued to tease.

“The resemblance is remarkable,” Kaydel noted as she picked up the sketch and handed it to Gwen. 

“My word... you could be her twin, love,” she giggled as Rey started getting flustered, “Your genes might trace back to royalty if we can find out who this beauty is.”

She continued to blush till Ben took the paper.

“Coincidence,” he simply said before sealing it away.

**London 1565**

Kira sat as Kylo drew. She decided that perhaps the scoundrel deserved a second chance since his lovely gift.  
****

“Have you always been an artist?” she asked breaking the silence as he looked up from his pad.

“My father wanted me to become a merchant like him,” he answered as he paused to sharpen his pencil, “My uncle felt I should be a knight like him. It was my mother who encouraged my talents.”

“Of painting?”

“Of gardening,” he teased, which earned a sour look from the queen and a chuckle from her nurse.

“Mind your stitching, Maz,” Kira scolded.

“Regarde ton ton, fille,” the nurse scorned, “Je te retourne sur mes genoux.”

“Je suis toujours reine.”

“Tu n'es qu'une fille stupide. L’homme essaie de vous parler. Sois poli.”

“Merci, madame,” Kylo turned and nodded towards the older woman.

“You speak French?” Kira was shocked.

“My mother was French who married a proud German man despite her family’s disapproval,” he said as he addressed the queen, “Along with encouraging my hidden talent for drawing, she made sure I could speak her language.”

Kira stilled in that moment as she took in this much softer side to this romantic her ladies often boasted about. Then she saw the ring on his pinky as it shown in the afternoon light of the library. She hadn’t noticed the French crest that was on the surface. It had soon become clear it was not a gift from Bazine or a sign of attachment to anyone in the court.

“She was from a family of power?” she continued to ask, “Your mother?”

“Yes… and died a poor woman,” he remarked, his eyes not leaving the paper.

Kira could almost sense the shift in tone from Kylo’s voice. It was a delicate subject, but she had to know.

“And the ring…”

“The only thing I have left of hers,” he simply said as his gaze met hers. She shivered in the moment of rawness. His willingness to open up so easily shook her. Her husband had his secrets to tell and then many others he’d keep to himself, but the depth that Kylo was willing to go was unlike anything she had felt. It was almost like he was reaching for her without even touching her. In a brief moment, her eyes darted to those lush lips, lips that were all her ladies talked about.

“She would have liked you,” he spoke again, “She would have wanted to see you succeed.”

**London 2018**

“Okay so hear me out,” Finn started, clearly more drunk than the others, “but what if Kylo Ren was part of this secret brotherhood where he was sent on a mission to kill the king and queen?”  
****

“That sounds like a terrible movie plot,” Rose commented as she poured herself another glass.

Their celebration led to Gwen buying two more bottles of champagne as well as beer and various snacks as they discussed various conspiracy theories of the dead artist.

“But I mean, he was in the court for what… 3 years?”

“5,” Kaydel corrected him as she opened another bag of chips.

“Okay, so he was part of the court for 5 years and the king finds out right,” he drunkly explains, “So he kidnaps the queen, tries to make a break for it, but is stopped before he could even make it on the boat. His plan is foiled so he poisons them which makes them go mad and this brotherhood is already in the court, right? So, once they’re out, Kylo is a free man and is never seen again. Case closed.”

“That is the worst spy movie I’ve ever heard,” Rey giggled.

“Well what do you have to say, Miss Nude Model?” Finn chuckled as he stole Rose’s cup.

“For the thousandth time, that’s not me, Finn.”

“And I’m Doctor Who,” he chuckled. 

“But really, Rey,” Rose said as she took her cup back, “What’s your theory?”

“Well,” she bit her lip before she started, “imagine being an up and coming artist at a time when Michelangelo and da Vinci are among the best. You’re not Italian which means you’re probably less exotic to the royals of London. So, you pay off some merchants to sell your work disguised as painting of other people of importance despite never meeting them in person. Word travels and the king sees one of your pieces in a church. When he meets you, he is more taken by your looks than your actual work and tries to convince you that your services would be better served in his court. Though you have no titles to your name, this sounds like a great opportunity, but you still want to make your mark as an artist. You instead persuade the king to commission his and his new wife’s portrait for the world to see, not only to show case your talents, but as a way for him to establish himself as a power among the other rivaling nations.”

Ben is listening on the other side of the room as Gwen is passed out. Her head on his lap as he pretends to be scrolling through some messages.

“He agrees and soon you are in a new country you have never been before with hardly a penny to your name. When you get to palace, you’re treated with respect from everyone, women flock to you because you’re this amazing artist they’ve heard so much about. Then there is the queen, the only person who has as much power as the king. She assessed you from afar and listens to the rumors she might have heard of your stolen kisses with one lady who may have had too many glasses of wine or that you write ‘love letters’ to all her ladies. Perhaps she gets jealous that her ladies are more free to live their lives as they please, while she is stuck on a loveless marriage. However, she could also ruin you if you are not careful, because the king and the court hold her in high regards. Yet this intrigues you, because you know the king is more interested in you than your work, so you think of it as a game. Let’s seduce the queen,” she said before sipping her beer.

“That’s almost as bad as Finn secret society bit,” Kaydel laughed.

“I mean, it’s not like it didn’t happen,” Rose noted, “Look at King Henry VIII. He went through wives like Finn goes through chisels.”

“Very funny, love,” he said and start playfully biting her neck.

Ben looked over as the interns continued their merriment, but Rey’s theory got him thinking. He placed his folded coat under Gwen’s head before disappearing into the back room. He went to the trunk they had opened and began looking again. Surely a man of Kylo’s caliber had a dairy. Another book was found, bound together like it was a journal, but when he opened it, it had taken the most water damage out of all the items. The writing was illegible and due to age, the pages were brittle. With a sigh, he placed the item on the table and pulled out his phone.

He might not be able to read the ledger, but he knew someone who might.

**London 1565**

The castle was a buzz with the wedding that was to take place. Poe didn’t spare any expense for his cousin, but it was easy to tell he was heartbroken to see his lover wedded. Kira walked in the chapel as lilies and ribbons were being tied together. Every detail was to be perfect and she delighted in her mini revenge. The court was proud when the matched as announced and it distracted them from the lack of children the royal couple had yet to have. Kira delighted in seeing the hand of the king growing pale as the king’s cousin blushed. She had been eyeing Armitage for sometime. Armitage needed to know his place. Though it didn’t stop him for protesting to the king.   
****

True to his word, the king turned him away any chance Armitage tried to seek him in private. Soon word got to him that is was the queen who persuaded the match, making him set her as his new target for contentment.

He barged into the chapel. His face’s complexion nearly met that of his face as he stomped in. Anger glared behind those green eyes of his.

“You are a devil of a woman if you think I would marry a beast like her,” he said as he approached her, towering over her like a raging bull.

“It’s impolite to talk about your future wife in such a manner, Lord Hux,” she said, pulling her shoulders back and meeting his glare, “Especially a cousin to the king.”

“I will not marry,” he growled, “His majesty would rather I die than share a bed with his kin.”

“No need for the dramatics,” Kira tutted, “You will still have your titles and lands, but in order to keep those things, you’ll just need to provide kin of your own and Margaret is a lovely girl.”

She took her leave as his gaze followed. She could feel his glare cut into her back as her heart  began to stagger a bit. She kept her steps even though. She did not want to show that she still held fear of that man. No man will ever weaken her.

When she left, she heard a loud smashing of a window breaking behind, making her jump after she had left the chapel. She held her hand against her chest and took deep breaths. She had to keep herself leveled. Showing any sign of fear meant that he won. 

Once composed she began to make her way back to the castle, where she was met with flurry of giggles.

“Lord Ren, please,” came a dainty voice, giving her great pause, “Someone might see.”

“Don’t worry,” followed a gravely growl, “It’s just us now.”

She turned to the corner to find Kylo embracing one of her ladies in waiting. He held the lady as she giggled, his mustache tickling her earlobe as she squealed with delight. Kira was stunned at this public display of affection in the corridor. She glared down the pair as they engaged in the tryst. He turned his gaze slightly and his eyes met the queen’s. He pulled back as the lady seemed confused.

“My lord?”

“You should go,” he said and stalked towards where the queen was hiding.

She turned her heels and made her way towards her chambers till he grasp her arm. He pulled her into a dark closet.

“Let me explain,” Kylo said.

“There’s nothing to explain,” she snapped, “Out of my way.”

“Your grace, I am but a man of no titles. Unknown artist. If I am to be among the best I need subjects to study.”

“Study what? The softness of a woman’s flesh? Or is that just a cover for you? Vous putain!”

“Yes! Maybe I have indulged in woman’s flesh,” he crowded around her, backing her into a corner of the closet, “Only because the woman I want is not available,” his words pierced her soul, shaking her, “So, I take in wine and brandy to help drown my sorrows and hope that the woman I lie with helps me forget, but it’s not good enough. Her hazel eye, auburn hair, and apple cheeks haunt my dreams. If only I could have a taste…”

“Back away or I’ll scream,” she threatened.

“You’ve felt it too, haven’t you?” Kylo asked as he cupped her chin, “This strange draw between us,” he leaned in closer only to have her frozen in fear. It was the same fear she felt in the chapel and instead of him being her recuser, he was now the predator. 

“Please don’t,” she said softly.

Her eyes closed as she ready herself for the worst. She did feel his lips, but they fell on her forehead, soft and tender, nearly stealing her breath away from the fright she was feeling before. As he pulled away, his brown eyes held her hazel ones as he looked upon her, heartbroken.

“I would never hurt you,” he answered in a whisper as he stroked her cheek, wiping the few tears that fell, “Wait till you don’t hear my foot steps anymore. It would not be wise for you to seen with me.”

And with that, he left her as she slide down the wall to the ground, weeping that her worst nightmares were coming true.

**London 2018**

Back at his apartment, Ben started looking up plane tickets. His uncle agreed to meet with him only if he took Christmas week off to spend with his family. Begrudgingly, he accepted the terms and was not looking forward to the awkward conversations that would come up. As he scrolled through, he was surprised to receive a phone call from an unknown number.  
****

“This is Ben.”

“Wow, you’re just as stiff on the phone as you are in person,” answered a young, feminine voice.

“How did you get my number, Miss Andor?”

“Facility database. They have nearly everyone’s number. Did you know how many Ben Solos there are? Luckily you don’t work in security or accounting,” Rey said with a playful tone.

“So what made you want to call?”

“You remember when you mentioned artist doing new interpretation of old pieces. Well, I was kind of hoping maybe you would look over my sophomore project.”

“Which is?”

“Reimagine History in oil paints.” Ben chuckled.

“And is King Poe Dameron among those?” He had to know.

“He’s the first one I’m working one.” He could almost hear the smile in her voice, “So, any plans for Christmas or are you a slave to your work?”

“Why?” he stretched, “Planning a Christmas party?”

“Well, the facility is closed on Christmas and Kaydel, Rose and Finn all have plans. Rose is actually taking Finn to Colorado to meet her family and Kaydel is going to Paris with some of her college friends… and it just leaves me.”

“What about your parents?”

“Yeah, they planned a romantic cruise to the Bahamas as a celebration for their 20th anniversary,” she laughed, “It’s fine. They’ve dealt with me most of their married life, they could use the break.”

There was a sort of sadness in her voice after she explained her lack of Christmas plans that tug at his heartstring. He looked back at the open computer screen as it counted down how much time he had left to order his ticket. He quickly canceled.

“Miss Andor, how would you like to go to Boston?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's a new chapter. How about that y'all? Thank you so much for all of the hits! Nearly 1200 hits and over 100 kudos. I can't believe this is doing so well. I hope you all are enjoying this so much. I've listed the translations under here. So... see you next time.
> 
> Meine perfekte Mohnblume - My perfect poppy  
> Regarde ton ton, fille - Watch your tone, girl  
> Je te retourne sur mes genoux - I'll turn you on my lap (knee)  
> Je suis toujours reine - I am still queen  
> Tu n'es qu'une fille stupide - You're just a stupid (silly) girl  
> L'homme essaie de vous parler - The man is trying to talk to you  
> Sois poli - Be polite


	6. Nudity is Part of Art

**London 1565**

“Long live Lord and Lady Hux!” Poe announced to the court and they all followed suit. It was a grand gathering of many lords, ladies, nobility, etc. . Kira even got to see her mother for the first time in months. Though she commented on her health and well being, it had accorded to her that there had been no change in her body.  
 ****

“Has the king no called upon you?” she asked.

“He has. It’s just that there are many things to attend to before we have children,” Kira answered before drinking her wine.

“You better find time soon,” her mother warned, “If not, he’ll turn you out the moment he has a chance.”

Kira soured her look at such a comment. If only she knew the leverage she had on the king. Her mother would be shocked and deemed her mad.

“Your grace,” came a deep voice in the form of a man in a kilt. He stockier than most men with a well combed beard and a friendly smile. A true man who got his hands dirty with the common folk and would take part in wrestling, sword play and archery. Wexley was it? Temmin Wexley, a Scotsman who was a the best huntsmen her husband had, was addressing her. She could recall their first meeting he was covered in muck after helping out a stable boy when she was looking for a horse. Now clean and groom, she see the dimples in his grin and the sparkle in his dark eyes.

“Lord Wexley,” she acknowledge.

“I was wondering if you would like a dance,” he bowed, “The king said I should.”

“A lady should not dance with a man who is not her husband,” her mother hissed.

“Well, I am no lady, maman,” Kira smirked and took Wexley’s hand as he lead her to the floor.

He was not the graceful of dancer, but try he did, almost making a fool of himself at the expense of the guests. He willing imitate animals during some of the dances as those around him laughed. Kira couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so hard as ended with a flare.

“Afraid dancing is not a skill I acquire back home,” he chuckled.

“It’s quite all right,” she said as she took his arm, “Laughter is needed at a wedding. It brings good luck to the bride and groom.”

“Then I am glad to play jester,” he said.

“Finally a useful skill for you, Herr Wexley,” spoke Kylo from behind them. He seemed to be favoring his wine a bit too much lately. He leaned against a column to keep himself balanced as he took another sip of his wine.

“Then call me a huntsman and a jester,” he answered, “At least I am providing something to this court artist. Haven’t outstayed your welcome?”

“The king would say other wise. He finds discussion with me to be very worldly, much like the ladies of the court,” the artist smirked as he turned his gaze towards Kira, “Maybe even the queen might think so. Wouldn’t say I have many talents that could serve you well?”

“Hold your tongue,” Wexley snapped, “She is next to the king.”

“A lady of virtue,” he chuckled as he swaggered over to them, “Do you plan on wooing her with pretty words and fancy gifts? Be careful. She’ll end up shattering your heart.”

“As if there is a heart to shatter,” she snapped before grabbing his cup and tossing his wine in his face. The court was a gasp at this display as Kylo merely chuckled, wiping his face off and licking his fingers suggestively towards the queen. She was flushed and had to excuse herself before her husband had a chance to ask her what happened. 

The next day, she was greet with a bouquet of poppies and a note. The page again told her the sender wished to remain anonymous, leading her to leave the note unread in her drawer where the other two sat. She was tried of these silly games. She didn’t want to see him anymore. However she had to see him if she wanted him gone. With a deep sigh, she readied herself for a new day. The sooner he finished those portraits, the sooner he was go.

**London 2018**

Ben walked back over the bench Rey was sitting at with two coffees. They were waiting in the terminal for their flight as Ben tried to think over the conversation he had with Gwen the night before their flight.   
 ****

_“And she just agreed this?” Gwen asked._

_“Yes,” Ben said as he grabbed his bag._

_“So you’re taking her to Boston?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“To spend Christmas with your family?”_

_That cause him to pause as Gwen’s Cheshire smile grew._

_“Remind me again? Is it going to be the cabin or the family home in the suburbs? You’re also pushing 30, so showing up with a young thing like her, won’t make them question a thing, right?”_

_“She wanted to go to Boston,” he answered as he felt his ears warming up._

_“Right, because Boston is a great place for a young artist to learn,” she giggled._

_“Haven’t you heard of SoWa?” Ben asked, making Gwen stop in her tracks, “Didn’t think so.”_

He hadn’t given mush thought to how he was going to explain to his family why he was bringing a woman home. That would have to wait till the time comes. For now, he just had to make sure she was comfortable and hope that no one jumped to conclusions.

When he took his seat, he looked over her shoulder to see what she was drawing. The sketch she was working on was of the lady in the chair they had briefly seen. She had the body and pose the same, however she chose the leave the lady faceless and added angel wings to cover up her delicate parts.

“Why is the face blank?” Ben asked as he handed her her coffee.

“I thought about using either Kaydel’s or Rose’s face, just to give it a different look.”

“In order to do that, you would have to have them pose for you,” he said, “Kaydel is not as tall as your subject and has broader shoulders and wider hips. Rose is of different ethnicity too, which would be really out of the ordinary.”

Rey looked back over her sketch, furrowing her brow before tearing the paper out and crumbling it up.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Ben said taking the paper from her, “I didn’t say it was bad.”

“But it’s wrong… I don’t know… I…” Rey blushed as she fiddled with her pencil.

“Have you not worked with nude models before?” he asked and she turned away from him. He had to bite back his grin from forming. He had to remain professional, despite the fact he had invited her to Boston for Christmas to meet his family. He had hoped to use it as an opportunity to teach. She was very talented and held the same spark he did when he was first starting out. Yet this innocence was indulging. For someone who was so prideful and sure of herself, it was nice to see her knocked down a peg. 

“Nudity has alway been a part of art,” he started, “Think about Michelangelo’s David? He had to study the body closely in order to get every muscle right. The same can be said about Picasso’s work. He studied prostitutes in his later years and some of those are his best pieces.”

“It’s not that I have a problem with nudity,” Rey said, still not looking at him.

“You’ve just never done it before?” She nodded. “What if I’m your first?”

“I’m sorry,” she stared at him, her eyes wide as her face seemed to turn red.

“My father has a studio he hardly use anymore,” he said, “We could go there and you can draw me.”

“Aren’t you my superior, Mr. Solo?” This was her first time using his last name, “Isn’t this crossing some boundaries? I’m sure it’s written in the HR guidelines or code of conduct somewhere…”

“It’s only for teaching, Miss Andor,” he said as they started to board the plane, “If it makes you uncomfortable, then we don’t have to do it.”

He took her bag and placed it in the overhead compartment before placing his next to it. He allowed her to take the seat closest towards the window.

“It’s not that… it’s just… we work together, right? So, if I see all of you then there is nothing to unsee. It might be too intimate,” she said, “I might not be able to look at you the same.”

“There is nothing remotely sexual about posing for art.”

“Okay, but think about that sketch we found of Kylo’s. Who’s to say that he didn’t have his way with her before or after the sketch.”

“Are you saying the thought of me naked would make you do something sexual?” he asked in a low tones that seemed to make her shift in her seat.

“Of… of course not.”

“Then you should have nothing to worry about,” he said as he pulled out his book, “Just think it over.”

**London 1565**

Sitting in her chair, Kira stared into the corner of the library, refusing to meet Kylo’s gaze as he painted. She would not let him get the best of her. Though perhaps unwise for them to be alone without supervision, Kira was bound to make a point with him. He was not get to her. She will be as strong willed as she had always been. He will not tempt her no matter how his eyes seemed to glowed as he looked upon her or the way he bit the corner of his lip when he concentrated. No, she will not give in no matter how low his neck dipped to show this well toned chest or bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Even how he trimmed his mustache will remind her on how it tickled her brow. She’ll ignore her racing heart and stare at the corner till he was done. Till she would never have to see him again.   
 ****

“I would have gone with your blue gown with the gold trimming,” he said as he took note of the dark purple she was wearing, “It would make you look younger.”

“I’m already a young queen,” she answered, “Beside, purple is a sign of royalty.”

“Yes, but purple makes you look like a plum,” he teased.

“Are you done, yet?” Kira was getting annoyed.

“Just about and then you can be on your way to sulk.”

“I do not sulk,” she snapped.

“Of course not since you’ve made friends like the widower Wexley. He must be great company to keep with his talks of prize kills he’s made,” he bit. Oh, so he could get jealous. Kira tried not to smirk as she wanted to test this theory.

“Lord Wexley is a fine man. He is loyal to his wife even in death, a loving father with a fine son. To see him upon his horse is like looking at a Roman solider,” she said, making Kylo laugh.

“It’s more like watching a pig try to stay on a cow,” he laughed, making Kira’s blood start to boil.

“At least he is better company to keep than that harlot Bazine,” she cursed before she could stop herself.

“Bazine,” he smirked, “is that who you envy the most? Is it the way her body curves or is it her black curls shine that you wished you had?”

Despite her better judgement, she got up from the chair, took the canvas from the easel and smashed it over his head. 

“You are the worst man God could ever create! I wish nothing more than for you to disappear!”

“Yet here I am, your grace,” he grabbed her, destroying the rest of the canvas in the process, “A man to set your heart a flame like you do to mine!”

“That’s not true!” Kira squirmed as he walked her backwards.

“Yet, you scowl when I’m seen with another woman and curse her for even being near me,” he continued his face dangerously close, “I send you flowers and letters with hopes to catch your eye and you scorn my very existence.”

“Because you’re a spiteful man,” she tried wriggling away, but his grip only grew tighter.

“Please, continue to tell me all the bad things I am,” he growled, “All of them are true. I am a monster, a sinner, a bastard. Feed me those hateful words I love hearing from your lips.”

“Unhand me at once…”

“Never,” he growled. 

He captured her lips and the world went still. Her breath caught as her body stiffened and then relaxed as if this was right. Having Kylo’s lips on hers made more sense than anything else in her life. She could have sworn she could hear an angelic choir in the background as he cupped her face, tilting her up so he could deepen the kiss. She allowed him to as her mouth opened for him to taste her. Her fingers found the thick, inky mess of his hair and it was the softest thing she had ever touched. The ladies of the court were right. It was finer than any silk she owned. He pulled her in closer as his face shifted, making her release a soft moan as her back hit a wall. His hand skated along her side before resting at her waist. Then he finally released and Kira was lost in a daze. Her blood was racing through her body as her soul was set afire. This was right. He was right and yet… It was not how it should be. He was no better than Armitage, forcing a claim on something that wasn’t his.

“Now I’ll have to start all over,” he whispered as he tried to pull her back. 

“No,” she shoved him back and made a bolt for the door. Her feet didn’t stop till she was safe in her bedchamber. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise new chapter! I want to thank everyone who has been reading this fic. Over 1500 hits and nearing 120 kudos and I can't believe it! I'm glad you all are enjoying this. This is my first true slow burn and I'm glad it is going well. Thank you all so much. Please comment, kudos, subscribe or bookmark. Reylo <3


	7. Home for the Holidays

**Boston 2018**

Rey took in the snow cover suburb as Ben drove down the familiar neighborhood down the street. She looked in wonder at all of the houses with their Christmas decorations up, counting the amount of times she saw an inflatable snowman. It was nice that she enjoyed this kind of scenery. He remember some of the stuffy shirts that lived in the neighborhood. How he wasn’t able to play with some of the kids, because his family was too weird. However, Rey’s smile never wavered as she looked beyond almost identical homes and enjoy the twinkly lights.  
 ****

“It’s like being in an American Christmas special,” she noted, “and I’m some fake fiancé that you have to pass off to your family, because you just can’t stand the holidays with them.”

“Fake fiancé? Isn’t that a bit cliché?” he asked.

“Well, it’s been how long since the last time you were home?”

Ben didn’t answer and may have gripped the steering wheel a bit too hard.

“Okay… touchy subject, but I’m sure your parents have gotten on to you about settling,” she said, “It’s in every American film that the parents always want their overworked son or daughter to settle and have ten kids.”

“Why ten?” he chuckled.

“Is that too many, dear?” she feigned a posh accent as she laid her hand on his knee, “Would nine be more justiciable?”

“How about two?” he added, “A boy and a girl and maybe a dog.”

“I’m allergic to dogs.”

“Well I guess the wedding is off,” he said as he pulled into the driveway, “I’ll be needing that ring back.”

“Jokes on you, I sold it to pay off my father’s gambling debt.”

“I told you he was an awful man,” he turned towards her, “Now what am I going to do about my gambling debt?”

“Well, last we talked, you said you weren’t afraid to pose nude,” she smirked, leaning in a bit too close as she eyed him under her lashes, “There are sites that would pay top dollar just for a peek.”

Ben’s eyes shifted down to the soft pout of her lip before looking back at her dazzling eyes. This was supposed to be a trip for teaching. He would introduce her to his family, because they had connections to get her stepping in the right direction. He should not be thinking about what it would be like to kiss her in the moment or that her vanilla perfume was fogging his mind. He cleared his throat, took the keys out of the ignition, and kept his eyes on the steering wheel.

“Now Miss Andor, I need you to know something. My family is… important in the art realm,” he started, “You have even heard of my uncle… He’s Luke Skywalker.”

“The art critic?” Rey asked.

Ben nodded.

“My mother is also Leia Organa Solo,” he said, “A profound art collector and advocate for art in communities and education. And my father is Han Solo…”

Her eyes grew big at that name.

“You mean the pop artist?” He nodded again. “And you’re Ben Solo… his son… his partner… The exhibition…”

“Rey, please don’t bring that up.” His anxiety was creeping up. His past failures was too much to bear and that she knew, didn’t help. 

“But your art… I saw the pieces… the articles they wrote did not do you both justice,” she said, “And your uncle…” Her brow furrowed and her mouth frowned, “His was the worst of them all. To say those things of your own nephew.”

“And that’s why we put it behind us,” he said firmly, “Look, if we are going to seek the justice that Kylo needs, we need my uncle’s help. On top of art, he’s a languish and a historian. He’ll be able to decipher these pages better than any of us can, so I ask, no matter what you may think of me or of him or my father… just… try not to bring that up.”

**London 1565**

The king’s portrait was on display for the court to see. It was a celebration as Kylo was praised for his amazing skills. Truly he was going to go down as one of the greats. Poe sang Kylo’s praises for all to hear.   
 ****

“I’ve couldn’t have asked for a better artist,” he announced and the court echoed with glee and cheers.

Kira, honestly, could see that Kylo’s true passion showed. Even if the lords and ladies claimed to see his talent, they failed to see some small details he included. It was almost too life like for her taste as her husband’s prideful smirk stare back at her, so she lightly punctured his right eye with her brochure to make her feel better. If she could, she would rip the thing to shreds, but her heart would not let her. Despite all of his fault, Kylo could truly capture the soul. She could almost tell from the smirk that it was to mock the king of his ignorance. He had try to persuade the artist to keep his company, but only for him to perhaps make his hand a bit too feminine. She smiled at this tongue-in-cheek as to elude to what the king truly desires.

“I have to say,” Wexley said as he looked over the piece, “He does very good work. I look forward to the day they hang your portrait.”

“I doubt that will ever happen,” she answered with a sigh.

“What makes you say that?”

“I’ve upset the artist too much.”

“Only because he wishes to make a mockery of you and this court, your grace,” he said sternly, “He doesn’t this honor to paint you.”

“You flatter me, Lord Wexley,” she said as she took his arm, “but I’m afraid my temper my have gotten the best of me this time. He’ll either ask for double or just leave without so much as a good-bye.”

“He can’t do that. I’ll see that a bounty is put on his head if he does,” the Scotsman said as the walked from the great hall.

“It’s no used. The king won’t allow it,” she said as she looked at the exchanged between her husband and the artist, “He holds too much favoritism.”

“But you could. You hold as much power as he does.”

“I wouldn’t even wish death upon him, even if he is a scoundrel that deserves it,” she met his friendly gaze, “Can I tell you something and you promise not to judge?”

“I’ll carry it to my grave,” he fisted his right hand over his heart in solemn oath.

She checked over her shoulders, pulled Wexley into a nearby study, and closed the door behind them. She took in a deep breath and asked God for strength, because what she was about to do was treason on her part.

“I am still a virgin, Lord Wexley,” she admitted before meeting his gaze.

“My lady?”

“His majesty says I am not to his liking and will only do the deed when the time comes… So Armitage mocked me for that and felt he could use it as leverage over me. He attempted to attack me in the chapel a few months ago… And Master Ren…” she should stop herself before this got too far, but she needed someone to know, “he kissed me the other day in a way to profess his love to me…”

The Scotsman stared at her, mouth opened and eyes wide before taking a seat in a nearby chair. Kira watched his face go white as he held his face in his hands.

“Please,” she fell at his feet, “I had no one else to turn to. The ladies curse my name and the men are all scoundrels. I have no support from my stoop of a husband and Armitage is out for my title. And Master Ren…”

“I’ll skin those bastards alive,” he growled, ready to draw his sword.

“No,” she begged as she kissed his hand and wept as his feet, “You mustn’t. The king will never forgive you if you kill his lover and Master Ren. He thinks too highly of them that he’s blinded to his better judgement. I just need someone anyone to help.”

“And what do you wish of me? You… you wish me to…” he didn’t finish the thought as he blushed and turned his head in shame.

“I need protection from those vile creatures who prey on me,” she spat.

“What could I do to protect you?”

“Be my lover,” she said, meeting his brown eyes with adoration, “Even if it is just pretend, with you as my favorite, it’ll keep them at bay from doing me harm. I’ll gift you many things. You wish for land for your son and his future bride, I can make that happen.”

“You do know what you’re asking could mean danger for both of us? The king may not like the idea of killing Armitage, but he will never agree to me being in your favor,” he said, “It would make him look weak.”

“Since when did he care about looking weak,” she said, “He might as well parade around Armitage as his bride with the way he moons over him.”

Wexley sat back in his chair. He looked down at Kira’s tear stained face and wiped away a tear that fell with his thumb. His touch was so gentle as if he was afraid that she might break in his hand. He swallow hard as his thumb grazed upon her bottom lip.

“If we are to do this right…” he paused as his eyes shifted from her neck to her lips to her eyes, “would you grant me a chance to kiss you?”

She was taken back by this boldness. Wexley had never seen to show any interest in signs of affections as he’s never so much kissed her hand. The thought of kissing him was not the same as kissing Kylo. It felt nearly wrong. She wanted to walk away from this moment and never see him again, but he asked. Where Poe had demanded, Armitage had threatened and Kylo had stolen, Wexley had asked, giving her the choice to refuse him. 

“Would that make you help me?” Kira asked. 

“The last woman I kissed was my own wife before she passed,” he said with a soft smile, “It’s not everyday a man like me gets asked to be a lover by a fair maiden like you.”

Kira looked down at his hand, callused and course from the work he does for the court. They were not fine like other men of the court. If she wanted it, he would bath in the blood of her enemies, ready to lay his life on the line for her. Not nearly like the romantic Kylo and certainly not like the weasel Armitage, he is a man the bards sing about. So she kissed his knuckles, then turned his palm up and kissed that. Then his wrist before raising up on her knees to kiss his cheeks. And finally she leaned in closer, her lips ready for his, but released a shuddered breath of hesitation. He softly chuckled before turning his head to kiss her cheek. 

“Don’t worry, your grace,” he whispered, “We’ll make the fools think I am the best lover a queen could have.”

**Boston 2018**

Ben and Rey approached the porch as the shivered from the cold. They shivered slightly from the cold as Ben placed a gentle hand on her lower back. Rey blew into her hand to keep them warm as Ben buzzed the doorbell.   
 ****

“So, once again you’re my student,” he said.

“Who you’ve engaged in sexual relations with on coked out benders.”

“What?” Rey laughed as he turned white at the statement. 

“Kidding, Mr. Clean,” she giggled as she winked up at him before the door opened. 

“Well, it’s about damn time,” answered a small woman who pulled Ben into a tight hug, “God, you’re so tall.”

Ben patted the lady on her back.

“Hey mom,” he said as he pulled back from the hug, “It’s good to see you too.”

She rubbed his arm before turning towards Rey.

“And you are?” she asked as she eyed the young woman up and down before raising an eyebrow.

“I’m Rey,” she answered and she extend her hand out to the older lady,”I’m an intern working on the Kylo Ren project. You must be Leia.”

“Hmm…” Leia nodded as she crossed her arms a looked up at Ben, “Kylo Ren project? An intern? What happened to not bringing your work with you.”

“Mother, this is an important project. Our sponsor needs us to finish this by April if we are to have a showing,” Ben explained.

“And she’s just an added bonus?” Leia winked, making the pair blush, “I was young once, you know. I know how these ‘working relationships’ work. That’s why you’re here today.”

Rey giggled as Ben released a frustrated sighed.

“Now come on before you catch a cold,” she said as she took Rey’s arm, “I have the guest bedroom set up for you, dear. Oh and Ben, your room is ready for you as well. I know you all must feel jet lag from your flight. You can rest up before dinner.”

She took their coats as Ben grabbed their bags and headed up stairs with Rey following after.

“I like her,” Rey said as Ben groaned.

“Don’t let her know or you’ll never leave.”

“Maybe I don’t want to,” she muttered, making Ben stop at the top and stare at her. There was that look again, the sheepishness glance that a schoolgirl would give to her crush. A subtle blush resting on her cheeks as she looked at him with wide eyes. It made his heart flutter as he imagined her looking at him the same way with her head on his chest, soft smile on her face as her fingers traced over _scars_ … Scars that he didn’t have. He shook his head and walked down the hall.

“Uh… guest bedroom is here,” he opened the door and place her bag in the corner, “My room is just at the end,” he said nodding in that direction, “My uncle doesn’t get in till tomorrow so we’ll just be relaxing. If you want, we can go over other works of art you can reimagine for your project.”

“And the nude session?” Rey asked as she took in her room.

“The what?”

“The nude session? You said I could draw you nude for practice. When can we do that?”

“Well… I said for you to think it over…”

“And I have. I want to do it,” she said facing him, faint smirk on her lips, “Unless you’re bashful.”

Ben had not expected her to make a decision so quickly. Perhaps he should have thought of a different way for her to practice her sketching. However, backing away would make him seem like he was a chicken. He should not be ashamed of his body, he was in good shape for a man his age. Then he eyed the playful smile on her pretty face. She was teasing him, challenging him. She wanted to see if he would back down.

“We can head over to the studio tomorrow night.”

**London 1565**

Lord Wexley was proving to be a fine lover indeed. He sent gifts such as books, wildflowers and even bought her a horse. A beauty brown mare with the sweet temperament fit for a queen. He would entertain her in the garden, kissing her hand or her cheek, making her laugh and listen to his stories of when he was younger. He over saw the painting sessions she had with Kylo, making remarks of her beauty every chance he could, earning a scowl from the scorned artist. He visited her chambers at night where they drank wine and played cards or discussing the happenings in the court. He noted that Kylo had grown more displease with her chose in men while she said that Wexley had won favor with the king.  
 ****

“If this keeps up, he might ask you to do the deed to sire him an heir,” she giggled, a little too intoxicated from her wine.

“But that’s not what you want, is it, your grace?”

“I don’t know. You have a handsome face. The king is a mutt so why not his son,” she laid on his chest as he rubbed her back and answered with a chuckle, “The ladies of the court are displeased with Kylo now. He has not called on anyone for quite some time. Why do you think that is?”

“Because you’ve shown favor to someone else,” Wexley answered as Kira sat up and glared, “What? You didn’t think he would notice the finery in my clothes or the new steed I ride upon.”

“Gifts of the king,” she said.

“Gifts from you, my lady,” he smiled, “Don’t think I don’t see your eyes glance towards him when we are together and you make a big show of affection towards me anytime he is in the room.”

“It keeps him at bay,” she stated as she staggered to stand and fill their glasses.

“You are toying with him,” Wexley warned as she slammed the bottle down.

“As he has toyed with me!” Kira shouted and began to pace, “He still sends those poppies with notes as if to think he can simply win my affection when he does the same to any other woman. I am no damsel! I am a queen! I hold ranks with the queen! Only God himself is above me! Laisser pourrir le scélérat!”

Wexley chuckled.

“And it’s that fiery spirit that draws him in,” he said standing up and taking his glass, “You just have to be careful what that spirit might do to a man.”

There was a knock at the door. Kira made him sit as she answered to find the bruiting artist, reeking of brandy. 

“Kylo,” she gasped, giving Wexley alarm. 

“Are you alone, mein Schatz?” he slurred, leaning forward to peek in, “Or is that pansy of a husband here?”

“You need to go,” she said pushing him away, “Go back to your chambers.”

“Why do you push me away?” Kylo asked as he took her hand, “I bear my soul to you and you turn me away. I look upon your face and I see Aphrodite who prefers Hephaestus to Ares.”

“At least Hephaestus was faithful to her when she was not,” spoke Wexley as he approached Kira from behind. 

“Oh ho ho...” Kylo chuckled, “There he is, an ugly beast, isn’t he? Come away with me and we’ll leave this beast to stew.”

“You’ll unhand her if you wish to keep your tongue,”  Wexley growled as he drew his sword. 

“Out! Both of you!” Kira shouted as she found the strength to shove them both out her room and slammed her door shut. She had enough of men to last her a lifetime. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you hear about the stuff that was happening on Tumblr? Follow me on Twitter for updates @ Mantabel1. Thanks again for everyone who has been supporting me for this fic. The comments have been great. I love the discussions have been amazing! Nearing 2000 hits and 200 kudos! Thank you all again. Follow me on twitter. That's where you'll be finding all of my update. Peace.


	8. Letters to the Queen

**London 1565**

Word of Kylo’s drunkenness visit to the queen had gotten word to the king. Lord Wexley had demanded that the artist be brought before an audience as to apologize for his insults to the crown. Lord Hux advises that it was unnecessary and if anything should pay a fine. Sides were taken as Poe remained silent, unhedged by the events that took place. The men argue on what should be done without knowing that Kylo had requested a private audience with the queen. Kira looked herself over, dressed in the blue gown with gold trimmings. Instead of a hood, she wore her hair in a loose braid fashioned with one of ribbons from the bouquets she had received. Maz had told her it was foolish, but that didn’t stop Kira. So they would meet in the castle garden where the poppies were in bloom, in a place that is most visible to any prying eyes so he may not have the high ground. She told her nurse to watch from the window of the library. If anything were to go wrong, she would send word to Lord Wexley, who would gladly deliver the punishment. She found him seated on the ground with sketchpad and pencil as he looked over the field. Kira looked up at the window where her nurse looked down at her and nodded. Taking a deep breath she approached him from behind. From the rustling of flowers and grass, he turn towards her, eyes wide as he stood. He bowed as he tucked his sketchpad away.  
 ****

“You’ve been an unruly guest these few months you’ve been here,” she started and he opened his mouth to answer, “Let me finish,” he swallowed and nodded, “You’ve been cavorting with my ladies, you’ve been seen entering and leaving my husband’s chambers many times, you’ve flung insults at me and my court, and you’ve shown up drunk at my door. Have you pride, Master Ren? No shame in yourself or how you’ve behaved?”

“I am a man of few talents, your majesty,” he said.

“That does not answer my question,” she snapped, “You profess your love to me and then chose the company of other women.”

“Because you rejected me!” he shouted.

“You never gave me a chance you reject you! Homme stupide!” Kira felt the tears form, but she would not let them fall. She would not give him the satisfaction of what he held over her heart. Summer breeze blew passed them as they took in the silence, eyeing one another. His eyes drifted to the way a few strands of hair unraveled from her braid to the way her skirt swayed. With a deep breath, he laid before her a confession she was not expecting. 

“I never took any of the ladies to bed,” he admitted.

“You… what?”

“Invited to my chambers, yes,” he started opening his sketchpad, “Kiss them, spoke words of passion and perhaps of lust, but I never laid with them.”

He handed her the sketchpad and she looked upon the naked bodies of her ladies. All so beautifully drawn, but never a face on them.

“Your husband is the same,” he said as she turned the page, “He thought himself a work of art like the gods of Greece.”

When she came to a page with her husband’s naked body, Kira blushed and quickly closed the pad quickly. She turned away from him out of embarrassment.

“Then why write letters to them?”

“To make them feel not ashamed of what they did,” he answered, “Male nudity is said to be looking upon God himself. Female nudity will condemn you to God by men who never got to enjoy its beauty.”

She turned back to him, meeting his intense gaze again, the one that made her heart skip a beat and her soul come alive. He approached slowly as if she were a frighten doe, closing the space between them as he towered over her. He took her hand and looked over.

“A woman’s body should be worshipped, your grace,” he said, his voice low like a rumble of thunder, “They hold the key to life. To look upon a woman’s body is like looking at the divine mother. She too was loved once by a man. Caressed and kissed, perhaps spoken words of lust to in fits of passion,” his grazed shifted back to her as he kissed her hand, “I’ve dreamt of taking you as my own and worshipping every inch of your divine body.”

Kira nearly lost her breath as she try to take a step back, but he caught her waist pulling her closer. She stiffen in his arms and ready to push him away. 

“Please do not run,” he said hastily, his face riddled with worry as he took his hands off of her, “My father was a merchant and also a scoundrel as you’ve called me.”

“Are… are you using his misguidance as a way to excuse your actions?” Kira asked.

“No, your grace,” he answered as he hung his head, “His unfaithfulness to my mother gave her family great concern for her well being,” he fiddled with the ring on his pinky, “She refused believing that one day he would turn around. My uncle offered to take me up as his ward, so that maybe one day I would have a bright future. Again, my mother refused believing that I was destined for something she never had a chance to do, to paint and see the world. When she passed, my father, who had been absent for most of my life, wept at this sudden lost.”

He clinched his jaw as he relived those memories.

“I’m not an artist of grant fortunes, your majesty,” he said finally looking at her, “Father sold the farm as well as all of my mother’s belongs. The only things of her we kept was this ring and a small portrait I had painted of her. My father took what I had already painted and pawned them off as these great works of art, making people believe I was some great artist.”

“He made nearly a fortune from me and would spend it away on brandy, mead or wine. Drank himself into his grave,” he said, “He left me with nothing, but what I needed to continue this pursuit. It just happened to be luck that I ran into your husband after I finished a commission piece to the church. He talked about taking me aboard, wanting to make me a man of his court. I refused only to get enough drink in him to hire me for commission. And I saw you… A vision of something I wanted… Someone with striking features and a temperament to match… I was enamored,” he cupped her face, stroking her cheek, “Never had I looked upon such beauty in my whole life, but you were the king’s wife and therefore, out my reach. It just happened that one night he and Armitage were entertaining me in the king’s bedchambers, he let slip that you still had your virtue. His majesty admitted to only loving you like a sister and the very act disgusted him.”

Kira felt a tear escape as Kylo caught it.

“To him you were nothing… are nothing…” he said as the words resinated into her soul, the final nail into her coffin. She may hold the same status as the king, but she is no different than the French duchess he came to know.

“But not to me,” he whispered, making her eyes meet his again. His other hand pushed away any loose strands from her face, before tilting her up. He leaned down slowly as his lips brushed against hers. He waited, his breath warm sending shivers down her spine and Kira gave in. She closed the distance as her hands grabbed his shoulders. The first kiss was soft and brief as he pulled back to give her the chance to leave, but Kira threw her arms around his neck, wanting more of the scoundrel. He had not wooed the ladies of the court. His heart had been true to her since the moment he laid eyes on her. She could feel a weight nearly be lifted off of her as Kylo lost his balance and cradled her as he fell. She on top as her fingers dove into his silky locks and he groan in respond. She gasped when she felt his tongue tracing along her bottom lip before tasting once more. His hand found the ribbon hold her braid together and with a single tug, set her hair free into the wind. He pulled back to take her in. 

“Du bist schöner als jede Blume im Tal, meine Mohnblume,” he said.

“Je ne comprends pas,” Kira laughed.

“Tu es une beauté, mon coquelicot,” he chuckled before kissing her cheek, “Laisse-moi t'embrasser encore.”

“Master Ren!” called a petite voice. Alarm rose in both of them as Kylo turned Kira on her back, sinking them deeper into the poppies. He placed a finger to his lip before stand.

“Ah… Lady Cassandra, you’ve seen to found my hiding spot.” Kira watched as he gathered in sketchpad and approached the young woman.

“You had promised me an audience as I played my lute,” the lady pouted.

“And so I did,” Kylo eyed the spot where Kira hid and shook his head.

“What were you doing out here?” she asked as she took his arm.

“Enjoying the beautiful poppies.”

**Boston 2018**

Luke Skywalker furrowed his brow, scratching his greying beard as he looked over the old journal as his nephew looked over his shoulder. They escaped to the study once they had a chance. Rey enjoyed in the merriment with Leia by baking cookies for Christmas blaring holiday songs. The two seemed to be drawn to each other like bees to honey. Something about Rey’s carefree nature just feed into Leia’s humor. Ben was almost worried that Leia might like his intern too much that she might have them extend their stay till New Year’s. Leia doted on Rey like she was the daughter she never had. She made a large breakfast, asked Rey about herself, and even decided to braid her hair. However, Luke just groaned and nodded towards the study the first chance they got, and they closed the door behind them.   
 ****

With his glasses on, Luke was ready to work, writing notes every so often on a notepad before turning back to the text.

“Well this is no good,” Luke commented as he removed his glasses, “These are all passages from his time in the abbey,” he pointed out a line, “ _I wish for death to be swift. The sooner I die, the sooner I can leave this hellish earth._ So dramatic.”

“Well he was possible imprisoned for a crime he may not have committed,” Ben stated.

“Highly unlikely,” he remarked, “There are records stating the kidnapping of the queen and she was in a state of hysteria the entire time till her death.”

“What about the pages before?” Ben hoped there would be an answered there.

“Illegible. Whatever moisture got to it, has nearly washed away the words on the earlier pages,” Luke stated, “I don’t understand this sudden fascination with such an evil man, Ben. It’s unhealthy. To seek justification for this man is like trying to justify the devil.”

Ben took back the journal and flipped through it before a folded letter fell out. Ben picked up the frail piece of paper and opened it on the desk. Scanning over the writing, Ben began to smile.

“This is French,” he said and pointed to whom it was addressed, “ _Mon_ _diable_ _déguisé._ My devil in disguise.”

“Since when do you know French?” Luke asked.

“Mom had me take a few courses in college,” Ben answered, “Your adoptive parents were French you know.”

“Yeah, I’m just surprise you can make out this ledger and can’t read this,” he pointed at the journal.

“Your German is better than mine,” and Luke raised an eyebrow at that statement, “Look if you weren’t going to help, you could have told me that over the phone before I spent all this money.”

A burst of laughter could be heard from beyond that door as Luke sighed. 

“Leia... your mom hasn’t been the same since your dad died, Ben,” his gaze sorrowful as he remembered the last time they were all in this house, “You haven’t been home in nearly five years and she just seats here waiting for you to show up.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Ben asked as he glared back at his uncle.

“Don’t pin this on me,” Luke said sternly, “You had plenty of chances to see her, but no. You had to bring your work and that girl.”

“I brought here her because of the connection you both have.”

“What connections? Your mother hasn’t left this house in nearly five years! Let alone talk to anyone beside me and that dumb walking carpet!”

“Don’t talk about Chewie like that! He’s the last bit of Dad we have left!”

“Umm...” the men turned towards the door to find Rey awkwardly standing there, “Leia wanted me to tell you lunch is ready...”

“Oh well,” Luke recomposed himself and smiled at her, “best not keep her waiting.”

He left the pair, watching him leave before Rey turner back towards Ben. 

“So... anything you want to talk about?” she asked as stepped closer. 

“No...” he answered as ran his fingers through his hair, “the journal... umm... it was a complete waste. There nothing that states he had an affair and most of what we can read is from his time in the abbey.”

“And this?” Rey pointed at the letter on the desk, “What does this mean?

Ben turned back towards the desk, looking over her shoulder and groaned.

“Probably another dead end,” he said.

 _“Combien de temps je veux te revoir,”_ Rey read out loud _, “Bientôt, votre enfant naîtra et nous pourrons être à nouveau ensemble._ Enfant? Child?”

“Kylo was never married,” Ben said as he took the letter from the desk.

“Did they ever mention how long the queen had disappeared or, I guess, was kidnapped for?”

“At least six months,” he said looking at her, “It was said that she was in Paris when a cousin spotted in the market dressed as a farmer’s wife. The court had condemned her mad when she pleaded for Kylo’s life and from called her pregnancy as proof of rape.”

“And Kylo?”

“It was said that Armitage Hux, aid to the king, set a trap for him in the home they shared outside of Paris,” Ben said as he sealed the letter away, “He cursed the king for being a fraud and being too weak to truly face him. It was there he spoke of the affairs the king had been having with Lord Hux and other men, says that the king drove his queen to that madness. His final words before they locked in the tower are still haunting. _Möge die Schuld in Ihrem Herzen schmoren, dass Sie niemals Frieden finden, auch nicht im Tod._ ”

“I… I don’t understand,” Rey whispered.

“May the guilt stew in your heart that you never find peace, not even in death.”

**London 1565**

Kira brushed her hair as she thought over the events that happened. Kylo admitted he never laid with the women of the court and his heart was true to her. It was exciting that she couldn’t help but smile. Though the thought of him looking upon their bodies did make her feel a bit uneasy. How does a man of his manner feel the confidence to not lust after these women after seeing them in an intimate way? She had seen some of the kisses he had shared, but they seemed to lack the same spark as how he kissed her. With her, it was almost like he was determined to have every inch of her. With her ladies, they seem playful, never drawn out with passion. Perhaps she had misjudged him from the start. She turned towards the drawer that held the unread letters. She worried her lip before opening it and took out the first letter. Slowly she open it, flattening out the crests and gasped to see his lovely penmanship. Even his writing was an art form. Not only that, he wrote in her native tongue. He wrote about a time during a grand feast her husband had in honor of his 6th year reign. He spied at the table and took in the beauty of her green gown. He talked of her like she was Artemis and he feared if he stared at her too long, she would send an arrow to his heart or face the same fate as Cypriotes. She blushed as he wrote about how he long to hold her in his arms, to whisper about her beauty to her each night, but at last he was just happy to gaze upon her.  
 ****

She opened another one, written in French again as he praised her for standing up to Armitage. He called the match between him and the king’s cousin a match fitting for them. He told her not to lose heart if the hand of the king came to threaten again, he would willingly remind Armitage of his place.

The next one was an apology for his words. Kylo had never meant to insult her. He only meant out of jest, in hopes to make her laugh since she looked so sad. He hoped that she would accept his flowers as an olive branch. 

The last one was a portrait he had sketched of her from a distance. It looked like her as she sat on a balcony, looking out to the distance. Her hair down as she dawned a robe. It must have been an evening she had not seen him. In the corner he wrote, “ _Meine süße Mohnblume, mon coquelicot.”_

Kira released a shaky breath as tears began to fall. She cursed herself for her foolishness. How could she have been so blinded? He had shown nothing but loyalty from the very beginning and she had allowed her pride to get in the way of that. Without a moment too soon, she took to her desk, take out quill and paper and began to write. 

**Boston 2018**

Ben stood outside, enjoying the cold air as the old golden retriever lay at his feet. He needed to get away from the stuffy house and just think. The journal turned out to be a road block, but the letter was something, however, the signature was smudged and, like the journal, had received some water damage. Now Ben had to think where else they could find evidence of the genuine affair. Chewie let out a sigh as if personifying his master's frustration.  
 ****

“You should be inside, old timer,” he said as he scratched the dog from behind its ear. Rey stopped outside with a cup of tea in hand and took the seat next to him.

“Your mother says it’s supposed to snow tonight,” she said, “How far is your father’s studio?”

“It’s in the back,” Ben answered as he tucked his hand back in his coat, “Mom said she still has the key to it. She’ll let us use the space heater to keep us from freezing tonight.”

“Are you sure you still want to go through with this?” 

“Are you backing out, Miss Andor?” Ben asked as she eyed the rim of her mug.

“I’m just afraid you’ll get pneumonia,” she said as her cheeks started color. 

“Have you seen a naked man before?”

“I have,” she answered meeting his gaze, “It’s just… this is different…”

“We are professional, Miss Andor,” he assured her, “You have nothing to fear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, a new chapter and wow friends, let's just say that this has been great. I'm amazed to see how well this is doing. The comments have been great, the reception has been awesome and yeah, I love it. This has been a challenge to write, because of the back and forth, wanting to make sure everything flows. Over 2000 hits and nearing 200 kudos, I can't believe it. Thank you all so much. Translation is brought to by Google translate. I hope it's good. More to come soon. If you want to follow me, you can find me on Twitter as @Mantabel1
> 
> homme stupide - stupid man  
> Du bist schöner als jede Blume im Tal, meine Mohnblume - You are more beautiful than any flower in the valley, my poppy  
> Je ne comprends pas - I do not understand  
> Tu es une beauté, mon coquelicot - You're a beauty, my poppy  
> Laisse-moi t'embrasser encore - Let me kiss you again  
> Combien de temps je veux te revoir - How I long to see you again  
> Bientôt, votre enfant naîtra et nous pourrons être à nouveau ensemble - Soon, your child will be born and we can be together again  
> Meine süße Mohnblume, mon coquelicot - My darling poppy


	9. Secret Affair

**Boston 2018**

Unlocking the old studio, Ben flipped on the switch, grateful that the lights still worked as Rey took in the area. Everything was still in place, from the easel to brushes and paints, his father’s desk looked ready for an artist to begin prepping for his next master piece. He could almost smell the whiskey his father would sip on after a completed piece. Rey stepped in looking over the studio as if she had stepped into a museum. She was in awe of the space. She took in the minor paint splatters on a discarded tarp on the floor before looking over the paintings that were stacked against the wall.

“I’ve never seen these,” she said, flipping through them as Ben started clearing out some space.

“Yeah, that’s Dad’s trash pile,” he grunted as moved a box, “Pieces he would start, but would never finish or some that are finished, but weren’t good enough.”

“Is this you?” Rey asked as she pulled up a painting with a sleeping boy on top a dog with an airplane in hand.

“Yeah,” he answered as he wiped his hand off on his jeans, “That’s from a photo Mom took.”

“Imagine? Pop artist Han Solo doing something more tradition. Why would this be trash?”

“He said it would be a piece that would never be complete because he could never capture this moment of innocence,” he said as he started setting up the space heater, “He did have me model for his other pieces when I was younger. Did you ever see _Toy Solider_ or, what was it, _Boy Blue_?”

“I think I recalled an art teacher talking about _Boy Blue_. A monochromatic piece in shades of boy said to depict childhood sadness.”

“You got that from a textbook, didn’t you?” Ben asked as he rubbed his hands together. The room slowly began to warm up as Rey turned towards him.

“Maybe, but it’s one of my favorites,” she said pulling out her phone and showing him her lock screen, “It was an image I found online, but I actually got to see it in a gallery in London when they were doing an exhibition on just monochromatic artwork.”

“And?” Ben asked as he took off his leather jacket and toed his shoes off.

“I… ummm… I think they got it wrong…” she hesitated as he removed his sweatshirt, “Should I look away?”

“Why?” He tugged his undershirt off and watched hers eyes go wide and turn away.

“I… ummm… I thought… ummm…” she looked everywhere but at him, “Maybe I could… ummm…”

Ben tried to bite back his chuckle, but couldn’t help it. This confident woman, who was willing to prove him wrong, was suddenly stumbling over her words. He started loosen his belt when she made him stop.

“Wait! Umm… Maybe I just draw you this way… As a warm up… it’s umm… still a bit cold in here,” he watched her eyes drift to his chest before darting back up to meet his gaze and turn away. Her face was completely red and Ben just smirked.

“Rey, I thought you didn’t have a problem with nudity,” he said as he took a few steps towards her.

“I don’t!” she challenged before hesitating as he advance, “I mean… I don’t.”

“Have you seen a naked man before?”

“Yes,” she admitted, “I’ve had sex before, I’m not that innocent.”

“Does my body offend you?”

“No… it’s just… I wasn’t expecting you to start so soon and Oh… looks like I forgot my pad and pencil… Maybe we should…”

“Top drawer,” he said.

“I’m sorry…”

“Top drawer of the desk,” he repeated before opening it to reveal a fresh sketchpad and pencil case, “Dad was always prepared. You can keep it if you want. No one uses them anyways.”

Rey nodded before taking the soft leather book, unzipped the pencil case to find a hardly used easer and pencils. She continued to refuse to meet his gaze, worrying Ben that he might have over stepped his boundaries.

“Rey, in order for an artist to understand their subject, they have to see it from every angle. In order for you to be the best, you have to overcome the uncomfortable parts and embrace your passion,” he said as he opened a bottom drawer, revealing his father’s whiskey, “What made you want to be an artist?”

“My mother has the painting in her living room of this cat,” she said as he poured the whiskey in a glass, “I remember just staring at it with its lopsided eyes and misshaped face and all I could think about is how I could make it better. So, I began drawing it and tried to fix everything that was wrong. The uneven whiskers, the lifeless fur and the disproportionate body all changed before my eyes, but it was never perfect. Then I would start all over again until finally it looked better than the painting. When I showed my parents, they were floored. Neither of them possessed a creative bone in them,” she took the cup and sloshed the drink around, “So imagine their surprise when their daughter wanted to become an artist.”

Ben watched as she knocked back the whiskey before she coughed. 

“God that’s disgusting…”

“It’s warming you up though,” he smiled taking the glass and pouring himself one, “Now, where to pose?”

He looked around the room, grabbed two stool, and placed them parallel from each other. Then he found a pair of studio lights and fixed them so there would be shadows. Rey watched him move as she started to remove her jacket and sweater. The room was suddenly a lot warmer. Ben pulled out his phone and set in on the table. With a deep breath, he looked at Rey as she sat on her stool. Her confidence seemed to slowly be coming back as she eyed him up and down. When her eyes finally reach his, he didn’t blink as he slowly undid his pants. The way she bite her lip was erotic. She was staring at him like he was something to be devoured. It was slowly become clear to him that maybe her hesitation towards this was deeply rooted in the lust she held behind her eyes. Ben suddenly felt nervous. What if she didn’t like what she saw? What if by doing this, it would only disappoint? Taking another deep breath, he thumbed his jeans and briefs and pushed them down off his body. When he stepped out, her eyes went wide as a small smile formed on her face.

“Are you going to stay in your socks?” Rey teased.

“The floor is cold,” he said as he balanced himself to remove them. He headed over to his stool, positioned himself at an angle, his left leg propped up higher to cover himself and spoke to his phone, “Hey Siri, set timer for 5 minutes.”

**London 1565**

Kira was walking down the hall as a hand grabbed her and pulled into an abandon closet. She nearly screamed till a hand covered her mouth and familiar voice whispered in her ear.  
 ****

“It’s only me,” Kylo said as he kissed her cheek, calming her nerves as he released her. She turned and slapped him.

“What was that for?” he asked as he cupped his cheek.

“For scaring me, salaud!” she snapped before tugging at his collar and pulling him down for a kiss. It had nearly been a week since his confession in the field of poppies and any chance the pair tried to be alone, it was interrupted by the ladies who loved him or her husband seeking her attention. The king had seemed to be more restlessly since he spends less and less time with Armitage, staying true to his promise on not calling on him. So, it would seemed Kylo had learned Kira’s daily routine in order to find a moment where they could embrace.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re cross,” he said as he kissed along her neck.

“Is that why you try to insult me?” she giggled as his mustache tickled her neck.

“Not all the time,” he pulled back, eying her in the dark closet, “however, the court would think I was trying to win too much favor if I paid you a compliment.”

“It wouldn’t hurt you to be nice to me,” she said as she furrowed her brow.

“Then, they might get suspicious, mon coquelicot,” he chuckled before taking her lips again with more determination to make her weak. This passion he ignited was almost too heavenly or perhaps more sinful than she should enjoy. She would give penance on Sunday, but for now, she was just a woman and he was just a man. God would understand. She sighed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, enjoying the firm hold he had on her waist, pulling her against him so she could feel his want for her. She gasped and nearly pushed him back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I… umm…” Kira tried to catch her breath, “I was… I was just taken back… is all.”

He soft chuckled before taking her hand and placing it on his hard member.

“Just being in your presents does this to me,” he whispered in her ear as she closed her eyes and felt her pulse quickened, “When I’m alone, I toy with it thinking about you,” he aided her hand to run along the fabric of his trousers, taking in his full length, “it is a beast with a mind of its own.”

Kira shivered under his heat breath as she felt her heart starting to race.

“Only for you does it wake from its slumber,” he said before nipping her earlobe, “It aches for you when I wake and before I sleep. No other woman has ever had this effect on it before. Perhaps it has quality taste.”

“Where is the queen?!” barked Lord Wexley from behind the door, making them stop.

“I don’t know not, my lord,” spoke a timid lady, “She left to meet with you, sir.”

Kylo growled softly as Kira shushed him. 

“Well, on with it! Let’s find her!” Wexley continued.

“You were meeting with him?” he whispered harshly. 

“You still entertaining the ladies of the court,” she answered back as the footsteps disappeared behind the door, “Besides, I always spend my afternoon with him.”

“Where exactly?”

“Why should I tell you? You’re not my husband,” she reminded him, making him respond with a glare. 

“And your letter meant nothing then?”

“Of course it did, Kylo,” Kira said as she ran her hands along his chest, straightening his tunic, “but if this is to work, we must have our wits about us.”

Kylo anger simmer as the queen consoled him. 

“What do you wish of me, mon coquelicot?”

**Boston 2018**

Back in the house, Ben looked over Rey’s sketches as she brewed them some tea. It was strange seeing him through the eyes of another artist. He felt she might have done him too much justice, but there was room for improvement. Some body parts were a little off balance, but that only comes from practice. From the quick sketches to the thirty minutes sketches to the hour one, she had an eye for details. However, she seemed to get more flustered the longer she would stare at him. He could see more in the lower half of his body. Perhaps the sight of his lower extremities were a bit much for her. He stopped and looked over the sketch that took an hour, admire the “thinker” pose he took and could appreciate the emphasis on his muscles, making look bigger than he probably was. Rey leaned over his shoulder as he continued to mark with his red pencil as she set his mug next to him.   
 ****

“Still cold?” she asked.

“A little,” he answered as he bit the end of the pencil as he continued to stare at the sketch. There was still something off but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Suddenly he felt weight on his shoulders as a pair of slender arms wrapped around his neck. 

“Rey, what are you doing?” 

“Trying to be a blanket,” she said as she nuzzled his cheek, “May, you cheeks are still cold. Come, we should get you to bed.” 

She grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him away from the sketches and the kitchen island. 

“But the tea...” he protested, not really putting up a fight as she dragged him up the stairs and towards the guest room. Why wasn’t he stopping her? He held more power over her. He was stronger than her and yet he was letting her lead him to her soft bed with many blankets. 

“Get out of these,” she commanded and she started removing her clothes. One by one he followed, taken in by the slenderness of her waist and the perfect curve of her ass. He followed suit, never letting his eyes leaving her breathtaking body. He must have been dreaming or hallucinating, because there is no way this was happening. Soon she was down to her bra and panties and he in his undershirt and briefs. They stared at each other before she reached behind her and undid the hooks of her bra. Ben’s eyes went big and chose to eye the dresser from above her head. 

“I... I should go...” he tried to make a break for the door and Rey blocked his way. 

“Ben, it’s fine,” she said, “We’re professionals.”

“I’m sure this is not what professionals do,” he answered looking down at her, trying to ignore the way her nipples started to pebble in the cold air. 

“I’ve seen your penis,” she challenged, stepping closer, “Do you hate female nudity?”

“No... I’ve had sex…” _Nearly_ _five_ _years_ _ago_ …

“Does my body offend you?” 

“No...” he answered softly as he felt his ears start to warm up. Ben finally allowed his eyes to drift, taking in her pert breast and her taut stomach. Everything looked smooth and soft as the dotting of freckles made him smile a little. She almost was the body of innocence though the cheeky, sheer thong said otherwise. He could see a faint smile forming on her face as she reached for the ends of his shirt and slowly pulled it over his head. Once again he was shirtless and she gazed at his chest without shame. She bit her lip as her eyes traced over the swell of muscle and the divots and ridges of his abs. She light traced along the valley from his navel to his pecs with her fingers, stopping at any mole or freckle she saw. 

“It’s like a constellation”, she whispered, before leaning in and hugging his waist, her head on top of his heart, “Mmmm... you’re starting to warm up.”

“Well... it’s not everyday a beautiful woman makes you undress with her,” he said making her look up at him in shock. 

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“Very,” he said without hesitation. Rey looked back down at his chest before pulling him towards the bed. She insisted that they spoon and that she be doing the spoon. Ben had no complaints as he felt her soft breast against his back and her arms around his waist once more. His heart raced as he tried to not think of the way she hummed contently or how she snuck her leg between his to rub his calf. This was a side of intimacy he had not experienced before. Women tended to be off put by his work that developing a deeper relationship never seemed to work. So here he was with Rey in a bed near nakedness as the snow fell outside. It was frightening how comfortable she was with him after only knowing each other for a mere month. 

“Ben,” she said softly, “if you do chose to paint again, I would glad model for you.”

Oh... this was bad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter alert! How you doing? This is more of a focus on Rey's and Ben's relationship, because I wanted this to be a soft chapter with them, with a sprinkling of some smutness. Thank you for all of the kudos, comments, and hits. Nearing 3000 hits and 200 kudos! I am so happy it is doing so well! Thank you all again!


	10. Man of the Stars

**Boston 2018**

“Vous souvenez-vous de moi?” he heard in his sleep, “Je me souviens de toi, mon diable.”  
****

Her voice sounded familiar, but distance. He must have been dreaming as he felt a part of soft lips on his. They held on his mouth as if there was some sort of determination that it might ignite something in him. When they released him, he felt tender fingers trace over his face, wanting to take in every single bit of detail.

“Souviens-toi de moi,” they said before he bolted awake.

**London 1565**

“You wish you learn to paint?” Poe asked one night as he played with Bee-Bee.  
****

“Well, soon Master Ren will be done with his work,” Kira said as she served her husband some wine, joining him on the mess of cushions and pillows, “why should I not take advantage of his skills?”

He raised an eyebrow after the spaniel retrieved a ball. Kira needed to appeal to him without drawing too much suspicious.

“I am a woman of very little talents,” she continued, “Think of how grant it would be for you to have a wife who favors the arts.”

“Then learn an instrument,” Poe huffed as he sipped his wine.

“Oh, but that doesn’t catch my attention, my love,” she said as she played with his curls, “Since his time here, I’ve grow interested in what Master Ren does. Your portrait inspired me.”

“Has he earned your favor like your ladies, my queen?” Poe asked.

“Certainly not,” she snapped earning a confident smile from the king, “He is still a scoundrel and a bastard.”

Poe chuckled as he kissed her cheek.

“As you wish,” he said, pulling back as his eyes lingered on her face, ”You’re looking rather radiant tonight. Is there something different?”

This gave her great pause.

“No, my lord,” she answered as he tucked hair behind her ear, allowing his fingers to linger as his eyes never left hers. There was something different in the way the king was looking at her now that made her on edge. It was the same gaze Armitage had in the chapel, but less menacing.

“It’s the rouge on your lips,” he noted, hold her chin,”You’ve never painted your lips before and the fragrant you wear is sweet.”

“Perhaps I just wanted to try something different.”

“Do you like when he kisses you?”

“My lord?”

“Wexley, the Scotsman? Does his beard ever get in the way?” Poe asked.

“Oh…”

“I imagine it would be too harsh for your delicate face. Is he rough or is he secretly a gentle lover that whispers sweet nothings?”

Kira was unsettled by the way the king was being persistent. She watched as his smile didn’t waver as if the blush on her face was giving something away.

“You haven’t lain with him, have you? Let alone kiss him,” he chuckle, “I must say he is a great cover though to throw me off.”

“It’s not what you think,” she said hastily.

“You still have affection for me,” he said which surprised her, “Your loyalty to me knows no bounds, Kira.”

He stood and offer his hand. She took it as he helped her up. He cupped her face, his brown eyes dazzling in the light of the candles before pulling her in for a kiss. It was unexpected. She didn’t know how to react as she tried to keep herself from stiffen as panic started to seep in. She was grateful he released her from this kiss, but was wry by the dazed look in his eye. He looked upon her in a way he had never done before. The softness in his eyes should have given her great pause.

“My darling,” he said, stroking her cheek, “I never thought I would feel this way about anyone, but I am truly moved by you steadfast. Not even Armitage was this true.”

He took her hand and began to lead her bed. He took to the light gown she wore, pulling aside the collar to reveal her shoulder and began kissing it, making his way up her neck. Kira wanted to resist, but to resist would draw suspicious. If she was able to give away that Wexley wasn’t her lover, she feared what would happen if he knew about Kylo. So she closed her eyes and steadied her breathing as his lips made his way to her ear.

“I wish to make love to you, my queen,” he whispered in her ear, his voice deep and seductive making her shuddered.

“Oh my lord… you flatter me, but… I feel ill…”

“Ill?” Poe stared confused.

“My head… too much wine… I feel I need to lay down…”

“Should I call the medic?”

“No… I have Maz here. She’ll know what to do,” she said as she pulled back the covers.

“Would you like for me to stay at least? To see you through the night?”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said sternly before realizing that perhaps she had offended him, “When the time comes, my lord, you will have me.”

“Then shall I see you tomorrow before I leave?”

“Leave?”

“I am needed for a council in Wales,” he said, “They wish to avoid war as I do as well. We hope to settle a peace treaty with our brethren of the west.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“It’s at least a week’s ride,” he answered as he began to gather his things, “I should be home before the first snow fall.”

“That’s at least two months, my lord,” she said with concern on her face, “Who will be traveling with you?”

“My usual regimen,” Poe replied as he made his way towards the door, “I shall let Master Ren know about your interest in learning his craft. Feel better soon, my queen.”

“Yes… my lord.”

When he left, Kira immediately jumped out from her bed and called for her nurse. Maz returned with a cloak to cover her.

“Ma fille, c’est trop dangereux de sortir,” the nurse warned, “Laissez-moi lui envoyer un message. Il comprendra.”

“Silence, Maz. Je sais ce que je fais,” Kira snapped as she looked herself over. 

**Boston 2018**

Rey seemed to like the old studio area a lot, that Ben found her looking over some old forgotten pieces. Each canvas was placed on the floor, varying in different size as she stood over them, hoping that the art might make sense.

“What do you see?” he asked as he looked over her shoulder.

“Your father really liked color,” she smiled, “See how the orange just stands out on the blue canvas. This is a city that’s been overtaken by nature, but you can see him gradually getting frustrated in the end.”

“That was Dad for ya. In his later years, he would start with an idea, but just end up cursing up a storm, saying that nothing ever came out right,” he said as he looked over the old piece, “He hated the commission work, but it kept him afloat.”

“There was potential here,” Rey added as she picked up the piece.

“Potential, but never good enough,” Ben said sadly.

Rey looked at him in a somber way before looking back at the painting.

“Perhaps it just needs someone else’s eyes,” she said.

“Rey, I don’t paint anymore.”

“It’s a pity,” she placed the painting back on the ground before turning back to him, she took his hand and looked it over, “These hands were meant to create.”

She was dangerously close again, like the other night. More clothes than then, but Ben could feel his pulse racing as she brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. Her eyes met him as she smiled up at him before standing up on her toes and kissing his cheek.

**London 1565**

In the the darkened halls, Kira allowed her eyes to adjust till she turned the corner. She had promised to see him and after everything that had happened, she needed Kylo more than ever. She paused and ducked behind a wall when she saw her husband leaving Kylo’s chambers. They both seemed delighted and embraced as brothers do, wishing each other good night. It gave her good heart to know that he didn’t suspect anything on Kylo’s end and was grateful once for her husband being a dimwit. Once he had disappeared from sight and Kylo was back in his room, Kira swallowed her fears and approached the room. She was going to to do something foolish, but it was better to live a life fulfilled than a life of missed chances. Adjusting her cloak, she knocked at his door, hearing a muffled groan before opening the door. He was in a state of near undress. His chest free and open and his trousers almost undone to reveal a small nest of curls, leaving her shock at the sight of him. He seemed surprised too but had the sense to pull her into his room before she was caught. 

“Mon coquelicot,” he said as he fixed his trousers and grabbed a robe, “what are you doing here? Your husband was here just moments ago. Are you mad?”

“Perhaps,” she whispered as she approached him, “but I had to see you.”

He turned toward her as she pulled back the hood. His expression soften as he hand reached out and touched her soft auburn locks.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he repeated.

“Yet I’m here,” she answered as she looked him over his disheveled look, “did he wake you?”

“Unfortunately yes, but I’m glad he did,” he smiled, taking her hand and kissing it, “He mentioned you wished to learn my craft. I thought I was not in your favor?”

“You certainly are not, scélérat,” she smirked as he rid her cloak and took in her night gown. The sleeves went down to her wrist and the skirt to her ankles, but it pleased him nevertheless. Her hair was in delicate wave and through the dim lighting he could possibly see the silhouette of her figure. Kira watched as he stepped closer, planting his hands on her waist and his forehead against hers. Their noses brushed against each other as he released a content sigh. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, ma reine,” Kylo said as Kira tugged on his robe. He released his grasp on her letting the fine silk fall to the ground and she took in his bare chest once more. Though his mustache and goatee were always trimmed and combed, she found it hard to believe he had no hair on his chest. Even her husband had curls and when she ran her fingers over the bare skin, she was surprised at how smooth it was. She drew a line from mole to mole, smiling to herself.

“Like a constellation,” Kira murmured.

She was in awe just from the muscle alone till she got to a scar on his shoulder.

“What happened here?” she asked.

“An angry farmer did not like me rolling in the hay with his daughter,” he chuckled.

“Scandaleux,” Kira whispered till her fingers landed on another one on his arm, “This one?”

“A jealous lover who thought my eyes had wondered from her,” he remarked.

“And this one?” A scar that nearly went across his stomach.

“My father’s drunken rage,” he said softly, “He cursed me one night for looking too much like my mother.”

Kira looking back up towards his face. A sorrowful look settled upon him as he was brought to horrible memories. Did he suffer many nights at his father’s hand? It made her reflect on her own upbringing.

“I never really knew my father,” she said, “According to my mother he was a fool who was away looking for a fight. He died a year after I was born due to a duel with a scorned cousin. My stepfather never really cared for me. He only cared for the sons my mother gave him and saw me as a nuisance. Then when word reached him that a king was looking for a bride, he saw true potential in me. A way into royalty and to aid in service to the king of France, despite not being of his blood. Now here I am… sneaking around a castle with a prideful man in hopes that I may have a glimmer of affection.”

“You have my affection,” he said as he cupped her chin, “Always have. Always will.”

**Boston 2018**

Ben sat at the table as he looked over Rey’s sketch of him from the other night. He looked at the lines that had taken shape of his body, every curve and bend was him. She even took the time to add in the moles and freckles she could find.  
****

_“Like a constellation,”_ she had said, which he could sworn he had heard before. Perhaps from a past fling or maybe it was something his mother said. As he continued to look, he almost didn’t notice what she had written in the corner.

 _Homme_ _des_ _étoiles,_ man of the stars. 

He smiled to himself as he looking over her signature.

“That’s the best I’ve seen you,” came the voice of his uncle as he quickly closed the sketchpad, “Is that what you two were doing last night in that shed?”

“Studio,” he corrected as his uncle sat with him.

“Right, and you two in the guest bedroom were just warming up from the cold,” Ben blushed as his uncle smirked, “She likes you, Ben.”

“I know.”

“So what are you holding out on? She a very pretty girl. Your mother seems to like her. There’s nothing wrong with mixing work and pleasure.”

“What does that make me? If I show her favoritism, the other interns might gang up on her.”

“It’s a little late for that,” Luke chuckled, “You invited her home and she’s seen you naked.”

Ben could only glare at him as he wore a pride smirk.

“Mistletoe has been hung. Just be careful not to be caught under there with her.”

Ben sat in his room that night looking over emails. A photo was attached to an email that Gwen had sent him while he was away. She had claimed it was a self-portrait of the defamed artist. When he opened the file, he could only stare in shock. There it was, looking right back him. His own face in a Victorian style painting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo... new chapter. Umm... I don't think it's my strongest chapter, because I had a lot of fun writing the last one. Now the plot thickens! I do hope you are still reading this after this chapter. Also, surprise! I changed the title of the fic. Hooray! I hope you enjoy! Please Enjoy... if I haven't lost you.
> 
> Vous souvenez-vous de moi? - Do you remember me?  
> Je me souviens de toi, mon diable. - I remember you, my devil  
> Souviens-toi de moi - Remember me.  
> Ma fille, c’est trop dangereux de sortir - My child, it's too dangerous to go out  
> Laissez-moi lui envoyer un message. - Let me send him a message.  
> Il comprendra - He will understand  
> Silence, Maz. Je sais ce que je fais - Silence, Maz. I know what I'm doing.  
> scélérat - scoundrel  
> ma reine - my queen  
> Scandaleux - scandalous
> 
> Translation brought to you by Google translate!
> 
> Later my dudes!


	11. Bamberg

**Bamberg 1984**

She had passed to tattoo parlor many times as he looked up from his sketch book. Her hair done up in three buns, faded jean jacket and canvas bag as she made her way to the bakery she worked at just a few blocks down. She had a face that seemed so familiar, with a pointed nose, oval face and chestnut hair despite he just noticed her about a week ago. However Adam Sackler couldn’t help this gut feeling that he had seen this girl from somewhere before. Perhaps she had spent her time in the states. Maybe she was from New York city like him. He twirled the pencil in his hand as the door swung open to a pair of teenage girls wanting matching tattoos of red balloons. It was slow Monday as Adam felt like he was going through the motions, his mind drifting to the girl with the three bun do. It wasn’t till his fellow tattoo artists were ready for food was when he was ready to jump into action. Gathering the money while getting a few cat calls and whistles, he threw up an obscene gesture. He had to see her. She is all she had been thinking about for weeks and just had to see her.  
 ****

He entered into the cozy bakery as his nose was assaulted by the warm smell of fresh bread and pies. Adam deeply inhaled before spotting her at the register. There she was, smile as she chatted with a fellow cashier in French, laughing as they shared a joke.

“Ummm… Bonjour,” he said after he approached the counter (his French was very rusty), “trois sandwichs au jambon et fromage… grillé?”

“I can speak English,” the three bun girl answered with a bright smile. 

Her friend giggled before heading to the back to make the sandwiches. The girl rang him up and he handed her the marks. Their hands brushed against each other as an electric energy passed through them of that familiar sense. Her hazel eyes locked on to his brown ones as he felt his heart flutter. _Christ she’s pretty._

The girl from the back comes back with the sandwiches in a brown paper bag as the three buns took his receipt, scribbled something on the top of it and handed it to him with a playful smile.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around, Mr. America,” she said, “Au revoir, Monsieur.”

**Boston 2018**   
****

Luke studied over the Victorian painting and Ben nervously nibbles on his thumb. They had the image blown up on Luke’s Mac computer as he took in what details he could see. 

“Where was this found?” he asked. 

“A German woman said she found it in her cellar. Apparently she saw an article on the Kylo Ren project and felt that this was something that could add,” Ben said staring that the painting that looked like him, “It dates back to 1885. On the back,” he clicked to the next picture, “it’s title _Mon_ _seul_ _amoureux, K.R._ She assumed it was a self portrait by him. Not that there is really much on him to the public.”

Luke stroked his beard as he looked over the delicate hand writing before clicking back to the painting.

“Kylo Ren never liked his appearance,” his uncle noted.

“Where did you get that from?”

“His journal entries,” Luke answered as he sipped his coffee, “I took another look over what I could find from the pages that weren’t damaged of his older entries. He claimed that the king fawned over him more than once, making advances he did not want. He said most of the ladies wanted him because of his craft for romantic words and his abilities. However, there was someone who seemed to have captured his heart. He doesn’t give her a name. He merely calls her _poppy_.”

“Okay… but what does this happen to do with this painting?”

Luke took his mouse and enlarged the picture on the right, lower corner, in beautiful cursive was the word _deine_ _Mohnblume._

**Bamberg 1984**

Adam checked his reflection one more time. Running his fingers through his thick, black locks one more time, he took a deep breath before leaving to the bakery. He smiled when he saw his punk princess at the register. It had been nearly a month since they started seeing each other on the regular and it had been wonderful. She had seemed so worldly for someone so young. She talked and acted like she was much older, but had the body and the energy that kept him coming back for more. And the way she kissed... God, he could write poems about the way she kissed. His sweet little Daisy was the best thing he could ask for. When the bell to the door rang, it cued the young woman to run into his arm immediately, wrapping her legs around his waist and smothered him with those intoxicating kisses. He chuckled softly against lips as he held her close.  
 ****

“Bonjour marguerite,” Adam said as he settle her back on her feet.

“You’re learning,” she smiled as she kissed his cheek, chin, and neck.

“I have a great teacher,” he praised as he tucked some loose strands behind her hair, “Almost done?”

“Ummm…” she looked at her watch, “in a half hour?”

“Oh…” he eyed the backroom.

“No, no, no. We’re not doing that again,” she gritted between her teeth as she headed over to the bread.

“Come on, Daz,” he groaned, “Where’s your sense of adventure?” He hugged her from behind, tracing along her side, dragging her shirt with him as she swatted his hands away.

“We were nearly caught last time,” she giggled as she moved behind the counter as he flowed like a shark to its prey, grabbing her waist and lifted her onto the counter, wedging himself between her legs. She fought against him, giggling the entire time as his hands found their way under her striped shirt and cupped the small, supple breast, free from any bra. She hated wearing them and he loved that the most as his thumbs grazed over the sensitive buds. 

“Homme diabolique,” she sighed before pushing him off of her and taking him to the back like he want.

This time, she locked the door before removing her shirt as Adam took care of his leather jacket. She immediately dropped to her knees like she had done many times before and with a wicked smile began working the belt around his waist. Once she had the button and zipper undone, she gave his dark washed jeans a good tug till his cock popped out, hard, red and pulsing for her.

“Bonjour mon petit ami,” she giggled before kissing the tip.

“Petit? He’s not little, Daz,” Adam feign offense before she swallowed his whole, making him bit his bottom lip, “Fuck, start to business as always, m’lady.”

Her lips curled upwards as she bobbed her head back and forth as her watering eyes met his. She pulled off with a loud pop before licking the underside of his cock. The mouth knew what he liked from the first time they had sex. It was like she had done him a million times before this. When she sucking hard on the tip of his penis, that was his cue to hoist back up.

“I’m not blowing my load on your face.”

“Never stopped you before,” she said, make him growl as pulled her short down to her knees, turned her around, cupped her throat so her body was flushed against him and dipped his fingers between her legs.

“Mmmm…” he hummed against her ear, “How long have you been wet?”

“Ah…” he teased her clit, “wouldn’t like to know…. Need something else to… ah… boost your… oh… inflated egooooo…”

He teased her entrance with the tip of his dick as bent her against an open rack.

“Nah, sweetheart,” he chuckled darkly, “just like to see you squirm.”

He continued to run his cock along her weeping folds till she had enough.

“Jésus-Christ, vous êtes un homme horrible. Baise moi!”

“Mit Vergnügen,” Adam answered and sank his cock all the way in.

Though teasing Daisy till she quaking and delusion at the end was always his favorite kind of fucking, they didn’t have time for that. So hard, fast stroke were what she got. She gasped and panted as skin met skin with full force, chanting encouragements to keep going. He grinned as he watch the ripples on her ass every time he pushed forward. He grabbed her shoulder to push even further into her till he feel that build up.

“Touch yourself,” he grunted.

“Ah… Adam… harder… more… Je ne peux pas… Je ne peux pas… Oh… fuck… plus s'il vous plait…”

“Shit… I love you,” he gasped as he felt him unload everything into her. His heart, his soul, his cum was in her now. 

**Boston 2018**

Ben found Rey in the studio again. Headphone on as she decided to take on one of his father’s many unfinished projects. She sat on a stool with brush in hand and her hair pulled back in a bun as she worked away on fixing the city covered in flowers. Instead of various flowers, she decided on just one, poppies. He observed her technique from the back as she was detailing some of the more promenade ones before his eyes shifted to the back of her neck. It was a beautiful neck, long and slender, but it was the red petals that were peeking out that gave him a sense of something familiarity.  
 ****

_“Why a poppy?”_

_“Why not?” she giggled as if it was a silly question._

_“I don’t know,” he replied, “most girls your age get roses or vines. Why not a daisy?”_

_“It’s in honor of someone… Mein Teufel.”_

_“Du sprichst Deutsch?”_

_“Ja…”_

“Ben,” she said as she took off her headphones, “sorry, I didn’t see you come in.”

“How long have you had that tattoo?” he suddenly asked, “The one on your neck.”

“Oh… a while I guess,” Rey answered sheepishly, “It was a bunch of us getting tattoos. I’m not entirely sure why I got it.”

“Was it a boyfriend?”

“It was in memory of my grandfather,” she simply said.

“May I?” Ben asked and she allowed him to stretch back the collar of her shirt. The poppy was open held up by a stem. It looked like a sketch with the petals only colored in. He subconsciously traced over the petals with his thumb as if it was sometime that he done before. This beautiful neck was inviting, such soft skin should be shown affection to. Had any other men had a chance to see this skin? He leaned in closer as his lips grazed the skin making her shiver and gasp, bringing him back to reality. Ben pulled back and took many steps away from Rey, like a child who touched a hot stove. She turned to meet his gaze, flushed from the action as he stammered to find the proper sentence. 

“I umm... yeah... it’s pretty.”

**Bamberg 1984**

Adam looked over his handy work as Daisy slept on her stomach. It shocked him when she had asked him do the tattoo. What shocked him more is that she had that sense of trust in him to not fuck it up and when she saw the end result, she was overwhelmed with joy that she sang his praises all night long as she rocked against his waist. He kissed that spot, making her groan and slowly wake with a soft smile on her face.

“What time is it?” Daisy asked as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. 

“5 A.M.” he answered with a smile making her groan louder. 

“Is this one of the boner wake up calls or whatever you call it? Honesty, I’m still exhausted from that concert.”

When she opened her eyes, she was met with a simple gold band with a small diamond in the center in his hands. She blinked a few times before looking at him again in utter shock. 

“Daz... I want you to marry me.”

**Boston 2018**

Ben stared into his coffee as soft Christmas music played in the background. What was he doing? This girl... this woman was going to drive him insane, not to mention this convoluted project just made him feel unbalanced. What was supposed to be a simple trip had turned into a deeper drive down the rabbit hole. Gwen has emailed him saying that the woman had no idea where the piece came from or who the artist might be, but if it was to be a portrait of Kylo Ren, why would it be made so late? Perhaps inspiration from an unknown artist, but that would have been around the time history was trying erase him from existence. Ben was fortunate enough to even find the journal and that someone else hadn’t burned it. He heard someone clear their throat, making him lose his train of thought and instead look into a pair of captivating hazel eyes.   
 ****

“I hope I’m not interrupting something,” Rey said as she slowly shuffled her way toward the breakfast nook, “Your uncle and mum are out so I figured I’d take Chewie out for a walk, but I don’t really know the neighborhood...”

“Chewie has a dog walker that comes on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Ben answered, “but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind being outside for a bit.”

It was decided they would watch the elderly dog from the back porch as he wondered around the yard, however, he mainly whined until Ben picked him up and carried him back in the house. Once safe inside, the old retriever took his spot near the fireplace as Rey and Ben sat on a love seat watching _A Christmas Story_. She seemed to be a bit antsy, shift in the seat constantly until she found a comfortable spot, angling herself till she was against his chest and his arm was around her. When she started to relax more, Ben jumped up.

“No, no, Rey, we can’t,” he said sternly.

“We can’t what, Ben?”

“You know what,” he groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair is frustration, “It was one thing for us to do the nude project, but it’s another to venture into this territory.”

“What territory?” She played innocent to a tee as not knowing all the advances she had made towards him. She stood from her seat and stepped closer.

“Rey, don’t do this.”

“We’re both adults, Ben,” she said as he took a step back, “I would never do something that would make you uncomfortable and beside, you were the one who suggested I see you naked.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“I’m not,” his back hit a wall as she stopped inches from his face. She eyed his lips before meeting his gaze once more, “Tell me to not kiss you.” He took a deep breath as his heart began to race. Was she always this confident? Always this sure? A woman like her should be with a better man than him, someone who could ignite her soul and yet she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. When he couldn’t find the words, she took his silence as conformation and leaned in. Her lips were the softest he had ever felt. It started out with a sweet peck, and then another and another, till his hands cupped her face and held her lower back she was fully press against. She nipped light on his bottom lip, wanting more access to him. He gladly allowed her entrance as he shuffled them back to the love seat. He felt her fingers tickle the hairs on the back of head as she moaned soft.

"Mon amour, mon coeur, mon âme, souviens-toi de moi," she whispered against his lips.

**Bamberg 1984**

He doesn’t really remember how he got there, but the beating of the heart monitor is what woke him as he scanned the room. She was there by his side, holding his hand as she slept. When he rubbed his thumb against her fingers, it’s what startle her awake. Her hair was a mess, her eyes red and puff, and her clothes were the same ones from the day before.  
 ****

“Oh thank God,” she gasped, “I’ll go get the doctor.”

“Daz,” he groaned, “I… I don’t think I have much time…”

“No, don’t you dare say that,” she said as he brushed his hair from his face, “Everything will be fine. You’ll see…”

“I can’t feel my legs…”

“We’ll work through this… Adam, please…”

“I feel cold…”

“Then let me get the doctor…”

“You’re so beautiful… You were always beautiful… Kira…”

The heart monitor flatline, nurses were alerted and shuffled her out the door. She watched as the tried to resuscitate him, but she knew it was no used. It had been always been like that. No matter how many times she had tried, no matter how many names she took. He would always be out of reach. Always taken too soon, whenever things seemed right. He would fade into the void, while she would have to solider on. Before the doctor had a chance to give time of death, Kira bolted towards the door, running out of the hospital and into the night air. She shouted curses towards the night sky for the curse that was brought upon her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! It's a new chapter with some angsty stuff. Woo! So, in taking this story in a different direction, I decided to look up roles that Adam Driver has played and see how I can work those characters into this story. That being said, I've never seen Girls. I've seen clips from the show and I think it a horrible show. Adam Slacker has to be the worst character ever, but I figured he would be fitting as a tattoo artist. Woo... I hope this is good. Kudos, comments, and all that jazz. Thank you to everyone who has been reading so far. If you hate this chapter then, I'll just go back to my original idea.
> 
> Translations brought to you by Google Translate.
> 
> Bonjour - Hello  
> trois sandwichs au jambon et fromage… grillé? - three sandwiches with ham and cheese ... grilled?  
> Au revoir, Monsieur. - Goodbye Mister  
> Mon seul amoureux - My only lover  
> deine Mohnblume - your poppy  
> Bonjour marguerite - Hello daisy  
> Homme diabolique - Evil (wicked) man  
> Bonjour mon petit ami - Hello my little friend  
> Jésus-Christ, vous êtes un homme horrible. Baise moi! - Jesus Christ, you horrible man. Fuck me!  
> Mit Vergnügen - With pleasure  
> Je ne peux pas - I can't  
> plus s'il vous plait - more please  
> Mein Teufel - my devil  
> Du sprichst Deutsch? - You speak German?  
> Ja - Yes  
> Mon amour, mon coeur, mon âme, tout mon souvenir de moi. - My love, my heart, my soul, remember me.


	12. I Curse Thee and Thine Lover

**London 1565**

Kira was woken by Kylo’s mustache tickling behind her ear and his lips on her neck. She sighed with content as she turned over to meet his soft brown eyes.   
 ****

“Bonjour mon amour,” she said before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

“One kiss, enchanting maid,” he spoke in a hush tone, “one little kiss, and then adieu. Your lips, with luscious crimson dyed, to mine with rapture flew…”

Kylo kissed her cheek before continuing the sonnet, grabbing her waist and lower back, hoisting her to his lap.

“But quick those lips my lips forsake, with wanton, tantalizing jest,” his voice warm and rich as she felt a warmth growing in her gut while straddling his waist, “So starts some rustic from the snake beneath his heedless footstep ready,” he tugged on the string that held up the loose chemise, grasping at the collar to expose her shoulder before kissing the soft freckled skin, “Is this to grant the wish for a kiss?” He smiled up at her as he cupped her face, “No, my love, tis but the fire, the bosom with a transient bliss, enflaming unalloyed desire.”

Kylo kissed Kira’s lips as she allowed her gown to slip further down her body. She was not afraid to expose herself to him, but was merely frightened at the idea that he might compare her to others. When he released, his graze lowered to her exposed breast. She shivered under his intense gaze, his brow furrow and his mouth pouted. Kira felt like her heart was going to burst the longer he stared and started to pull up the chemise.

“No, no, no, don’t,” he said stilling her as he met her frantic gaze, “They’re perfect… I wish to sketch you.”

Kylo pushed her off his lap and walked frantically around the room. He grabbed extra pillows and a fine throw blanket before he began positioning her. He braided her hair with ease like he was a trained stylish and tied a long, silk ribbon at the end. She had one hand over her hand and the other cradling a pillow as her breasts were exposed to the cool air. He pushed up the skirt of her gown to expose her fine legs and had one bent slight. He smiled at his handy work before he took his seat. With pencil and paper in hand he began to draw.

“Let me know if you need to move or stretch,” he said, eyeing her once more, “There is no need to strain yourself.”

**Boston 2018**

Luke helped Leia upstairs as she was a drunken mess after all the Christmas celebrating. He suggested that Ben and Rey turn in for the night seeing that they had an early flight the next day. Laughing amongst themselves, they took to the task of cleaning up the desert plates and coffee mugs.  
 ****

“I’m really going to miss this place,” Rey said as she dried a plate Ben had washed.

“Why?”

“It’s just… this is probably been my first proper Christmas in a long time,” she said with a half hearted smile as she stacked the dishes on the rack, “Ben, can I ask you something?”

“Even if I said no you would still ask,” he chuckled as he dried his hand.

“Do you feel something for me?”

He paused as he felt his ears start to burn. His thoughts drifted back to the scene on the love seat in the living. Had it not been for Chewie’s loud bark, who knows how far they would have gone. He was practically her employer. _God what had he done?_

“Feel something? Like romantic feelings?” he wanted to tread lightly as she played at the simple diamond ring on her right hand.

“I mean if you want, but that’s not what I meant,” she looked at him through her eyelashes, “I was thinking like a familiarity, like maybe we’ve seen each other before in a past life?”

_That was unexpected._

“I’m not entirely sure I believe in such things.”

“What about fate? Like maybe there is something in this world that wants us to be together?”

She took his hand in hers, interlacing her fingers with his. He felt his heart jump as the simple act as he watched a small smile formed on her face. 

“I’d like to believe there is something bringing us together,” she said as she backed him into kitchen counter, “A hidden force that just binds,” she eyes his parted lips for a moment before meeting his gaze, “You feel it too, don’t you?”

She had used those words before. Somewhere, in another place, _in another time_ , she had used those words before. He felt like he might faint if it weren’t for the counter behind him. She was fulling flushed against his body as she leaned in closer, to steal a kiss like she did before. _Like she had always done_. Until something in his mind snapped. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back.

“What’s wrong?” Rey asked panicked. Perhaps she was afraid she might have over stepped her boundaries.

“We can’t… This can’t…”

“Why?” Her tone changed to someone who had been hurt. Her brow furrowed in anger and her hazel eyes glaring back at him.

“Rey, you’re a very beautiful woman. Any man would be flattered to have caught your eye, but you’re still an intern under me,” Ben explained as he rubbed her arms, trying to calm her.

“You didn’t seem to find that a problem earlier,” she spat, pushing his hands off of her and made her way up the stairs.

“That was different,” he chased after, “We were in a different state of mind then.”

“Different state of mind?” Rey threw back at him, “I’m pretty sure I’m still in the same mind as I was earlier.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” He felt his temper boiling as they stood outside the guest bedroom, “You want me to throw you on to that bed, inches away from my mother’s room and fuck you till you can’t see straight?”

She was shocked at his words.

“And then you use it against me, right? You go to Gwen the moment you have a chance and say ‘ _He took advantage of me. I couldn’t put up a fight against him._ ’ Despite the entire time you would be panting and begging for more. You tease and flaunt and act like you can have this power over me, Rey, just because you have striking eyes and amazing tits. News flash! I have more will power than most men,” Ben barked before turning his heels towards his room and slamming the door behind him.

**London 1565**

It has been a week since the king has left and Kira is in blissful heaven. Kylo’s company proved to be more interesting and fulfilling than that of her husband. Apart from teaching her how to draw, he took it upon himself to teach her German. He started with objects around his room before identifying body parts. They sat by the fire as he started pointing out parts of his face. 

“Augen,” he pointed to his eye.

“Augen,” she repeated.

“Ohr,” he pointed to his ear and she repeated.

“Nase,” he pointed at her nose and she giggled, “Wiederholen,” he said sternly.

“Nase,” she laughed.

“Very good,” Kylo smiled as his thumb drifted to her lips and rubbed against the bottom one, “Lippen.”

“Lippen,” Kira replied as she kissed the pad of his thumb. 

“Willst du einen Kuss?” he teased, cupping her chin as he pulled her closer. 

“Oui.”

“Auf Deutsch,” he commanded with a wicked glint in his eyes. 

“Ja,” she said breathlessly. 

When he was about to take his chance, there was a knock at his door. They froze. There was another knock followed by a feminine voice. 

“Master Ren,” the voice called, “I’m here for our session.”

“You’re still meeting with them?” Kira hissed. 

“Shhh... keep your voice down. I’ll send her away,” he tossed a blanket over Kira and pushed her down to the ground. 

Kira fumed silently as heard the opening over the door. Soft murmurs were exchanged. The purr in the woman’s voice reminded her of Bazine. She gripped the blanket tighter to prevent her from unleashing her jealousy. 

Of course Bazine would be here. Of course she would want to see him during the first chill of autumn. Of course she would be singing his praises and flaunting herself to the romantic. Kira will make sure that deliver a serve punishment for visiting Kylo. 

“Lady Bazine,” she heard Kylo’s stern voice, “I asked you not call again.”

“Nonsense, my love,” the lady answered as Kira’s gut tied in a sickening knot by the velvet in her voice, “There is no one, but us and the queen is far too busy with the foreign matters of her husband to care.”

“Yet she did give strict orders to her ladies to avoid me like the plague and I would hate to see you thrown in the tower over something as foolish as this.”

“Then let us runaway, my love. Far from the cursed kingdom and create our own destiny.”

“You mistake romantics as affection, dear woman, but unfortunately for you, my heart is with another,” he answered and there was a pregnant pause as the shock settled.

“Who?” she asked with spite in her voice.

“None of your concern.”

“I demand you tell me at once!”

“Mind your manners, Lady Bazine, or you shall wake the whole castle,” Kylo said with a smug tone before slamming the door in her face. 

What followed were nightmarish howls and loud thuds upon his door, sending chills down Kira’s spine.

“I curse thee! You wicked man! I curse thee to a thousand years of unrelenting agony that you and her will never be truly happy! May you rot in your gave and she never find peace! You son of a bastard!” 

**London 2018**

The flight was exhausting, however, the fact that Rey was starting to keep her distances from Ben gave him more anxiety than he had felt before. From the car ride to the terminal to the plane was all in awkward silence with her headphones in as she sketched away. He would occasionally look over at what she drawing, seeing that she seemed to be drawing a haunting figure. A skeleton of a woman with no eyes in a renaissance style gown that was torn and frayed around the skirt had a noose around her neck as if styled as a necklace. It was disturbing for her to draw such imagery that Ben was tempted to rip the page out of her book. Instead, he’d figured it was be best to try and find some common ground with her again.  
 ****

“That’s an interesting concept.” He got no answer.

“Any reason for the noose.” She was ignoring him.

“You must have been inspired by the young queen’s death to draw this…”

“She’s not the queen,” Rey quickly interjected, “The queen was smothered to death, not hung.”

“Records said she died giving birth,” Ben said.

“Well, they’re wrong,” she snapped, “It was murder.”

“And where did you get that?”

“It was a cover up. The king didn’t want her anymore, so asked his hand to do something about it,” she answered, “I found it one of the letters we were deciphering. Apparently the wife of Armitage Hux wanted Kylo to know how his love truly was killed.”

He was astounded by this.

“Why didn’t you or Kaydel not say anything?” he asked, “This could be a new break for Kylo. Something more that we have to help him.”

“What good is the life of a dead man, Ben? He’s still dead. He’ll never know of the justification that we’re trying to find for him.”

“It means that we shine a light on a dark part of history, Rey. We help an artist become more than just a bad seed in a time of uncertainty. Instead we give him the redemption he deserves.”

She pulled him in for a firm kiss and suddenly he feels a since of home, of belonging, and of sorrow. It was that familiar feeling that had always been there, but yet distance. A warmth the grew only stronger the longer they kissed in this dimly lit plane. Unbuckling her seat belt, she climbed into his lap. She reached between them and found the button to his jeans.

“Rey, wait… not here… We can’t… ah…” She held an intense gaze as she caress his member. This boldness had always been her and he felt flushed when she began slowly stroking him.

“Shhh… we don’t want to alert anyone,” Rey whispered in his ear before kissing his cheek, “Let me show my appreciation for you. Let me take care of you, Ben. And then you can think about what you want to do to me later… ravish me, if you will.”

Her thumb lazily circled the tip of his cock as he gripped onto her thighs. Her hot breath on his neck was almost too much as he jerked forward when she tightened her grip on him. Her movements were methodical as if she had done this a hundred times before. _Maybe not on a plane, but there might have been a time in a church._

“You’re so big,” she smirked, “and the way you blush… it’s adorable. You had never been embarrass… well, maybe once or twice before, _padre.”_

“Rey,” he sighed as his head rolled back against his seat. She pulled her hand out and licked it before tucking it back in. Her strokes were becoming faster as her hips began to wiggle against his thigh. He noted a small wet spot forming in the front of her dark leggings. She adjusted slightly so her strokes had a perfect rhythm. Ben felt his eyes roll into the back of his head as she continued to whisper in his ear. 

“You’ve always had the best cock. No matter how many times I go through this, it’s always the best one for me,” she nipped on his earlobe, “When we’re back in London, I expect you to make good on your promise. To hell with the rules,” her lips grazed against his as she delivered a final promise before kissing him, “Je suis à vous.”

He came in that moment, making a mess in his pants and in her hand. 

**London 1565**

Kira awoke to a scream. The door to her chambers were thrown open in hast as the guards alerted that there was something she needed to see. Throwing on a robe she followed to the far side of the castle, near where the poppies once grew. A maid was being consoled by the cook and farmhand when Kira looked upon the scene. There she was, hanging from the window like a chime in the chill breeze.   
 ****

“How did this happen?” she asked.

“The maid found her like that on the way to the gardens, m’lady,” one of the guards said, “She’s been a mess ever since.”

“Any foul play involved?”

“Just a note, ma’,” he handed her the letter which made her tremble with fright. 

_A phony queen fucked a shame of an artist. To the depths of hell with you both._

When she turned back to the body, she was shocked to see Kylo hanging from the noose. 

“No!” she screamed as she woke in Kylo’s arms. 

“What’s wrong, meine Mohnblume?” he asked in a sleepy tone.

Kira bounded from the bed and ran towards the door. Through the halls where the early morning light was trickling in and towards the poppy field where the fog had settled. She looked up at the window to find nothing. What was she expecting to find?

“Your majesty,” she turned her head towards the raven hair beauty in her red gown and a basket filled with apples, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Kira!” Kylo called from behind, his look just as disheveled as hers which only made Bazine smirk more.

“You seem unwell, your grace,” she continued as she tucked a strand of Kira’s hair behind her ear, “shall I get you to bed?”

She merely nodded as her lady-in-waiting took her arm and guided her back to the castle.

“Perhaps it might be best if you stay away from the artist for a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! I figured I'd get a chapter out before the holiday season consumes me. Thank you all so much for your support. I'm glad you all were okay with the direction I took this story in and that this is probably going to be a much longer fic than I expected. Hooray! The poem that Kylo is reciting in called Kiss III by Johannes Secundus. The book of Kisses is what he is mainly known for and if you want to read them, you can find them on PoemHunter.com. I would recommend reading them, because they're very sweet. Hopefully you enjoyed the minor smut thrown in there. As much as I want them to bang, we still have so much more to go! Thanks again for nearly 4000 hits and nearly 200 kudos. I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this. Thanks again and season greetings Reylo family. <3


	13. You Must Fulfill Your Duty

**London 2019**

“Happy New Year!” Finn shouted as Rose tried to stifle her giggling. Kaydel presented Gwen with a bottle of wine while Rey placed her coat on the rack. Ben was looking over the Victorian portrait when he looked up from the inspection. A playful smirk grew upon her face as he blushed, remembering what happened when they got to his place.   
 ****

He shouldn’t have invited her over, but after the hand job she gave him, it almost felt rude to send her on her way home. So, he allowed her into his one bedroom apartment with it’s modest living room and kitchen. It was probably from the jet lag, the low light of the apartment or still adjusting altitude, he felt he saw a seductive look in her eye when he offered her a cup of coffee. The stillness in the air made him nervous as he watched Rey circle his living room, slowly peeling off clothes from her body. First went was the beanie on her head. Then the lovely grey scarf his mother got at a last minute gift for her. Ben swallowed hard when she removed the oversized hoodie from her as her shirt rid up slightly to show off the tone tummy underneath it. She eyed his bookshelves as she toed her sneakers off, her painted toes feeling the shag carpet. Then she turned towards him with a playful smirk.

“I like your place,” she said as she approached his bedroom door. She released her hair from the messy bun it was in and shook it out in all its glory. The soft light of the lamp caught the brunette, blonde and auburn as ran her fingers through locks. Her hands then fell on her jeans as she slowly unbuttoned them and wriggled out of each leg. 

“Rey,” he said weakly, “we could just talk.”

“All we do in talk, Ben,” she replied was a saucy timbre, “I’d much rather see what else your mouth can do.”

His ears began to ring as she walked into his room. He followed like a lost dog on the trail for a hot meal as she threw her shirt at his head. The playful minx smirked as she perched in the middle of his queen size bed. She arched her back as undid her bra with little effort before lifting her waist to slowly peel away the boy shorts she had on. Like the goddess Aphrodite, she was sent to seduce him, make him feel like a powerless man. He had girlfriends before but none of them seemed to have the same affect as this 19 year tart. He could slowly feel his member coming alive again by this make display in front of him. 

“Damn it,” he cursed as he approached the bed, grabbing her by the back of her knees and pulling her till she was at the edge of the bed as she squealed with delight.

His mouth was on her delicious cunt in a matter of seconds. She went silent when his tongue lapped up the wetness she had developed as his lush lips encircled her clit. She moaned softly as her hips thrusted slightly against his mouth ravaged her sensitive part. 

“Ben,” his name on her mouth was more delightful than any other time his heard it. Her fingers laced through his thick locks as she tugged lightly, trying to get him to adjust in the best way. 

“Yes... there... oh... fuck...” He peeked through his lashes to find her pawing at her own breasts, teasing and taunting her nipples till they were peaked. _She always had the best breast. He should have worshipped her breast more when he had the chance._ However now, she was loving his mouth, loving it more than she had ever loved before. 

“Oh... bordel de merde... ta bouche est incroyable... Oh mon Dieu! Je vais venir! Plus s'il vous plait... Ben... Adam... Toby... Clyde... Garupe... Kylo...”

Her toes curled into his comforter as her body shook under his grasp. He continued to lip as she rode out her orgasm. She giggled from the high she was feeling before pulling him up from between her legs and kissing him. He should have been offended by the different names she had called out, but somehow it didn’t bother him. There was a familiarity to each and every one of them that maybe this was the destiny thing that she had been talking about. Or perhaps she just felt the need to name all of her past lovers in this tryst. Rey soon started helping him out of his clothes and to show her appreciation for his mouth, hers traveled to his throbbing member. If her hands were skilled, her mouth was an expert, licking him, kissing him and engulfing him. He was too tired to care, but was astonished at how tender and generous she was. She hummed softly as she took in the delight of sucking him off. Never had he known someone so eager to do this. She mumbled French phrase to herself that he would catch minor words. Once he felt that tightening again, he painting her lips, her tongue and her chest with his spent. She smiled with pride as she lapped up every bit of it. 

“Tellement délicieux,” she giggled as she reached by his nightstand for a tissue. 

“Sorry,” he murmured as she wiped away his cum. 

“Don’t be, my cleaning man,” she tossed the used tissue away before snuggling up to him, “It was worth it.”

Now, here they were. Back to their work as Ben tried to avoid being alone with Rey. With paintings coming it, Gwen had to divide up the work that seemed fitting. Each student was given a piece of Kylo’s older landscapes to work on while Ben was in uncover the mysterious self portrait. On top of that, a couple of Tarkin’s associates were coming in the afternoon to take a look at the progress they made. As Ben was placing the portrait back on its stretcher, Rey decided to plant a peck on his cheek, nearly missing the nail in the process and almost hitting his thumb.

“Don’t do that,” he hissed as he looked over his shoulder at Gwen showing what the interns were to be looking for when accessing damage, “You should be over there.”

“But I already done a restoration,” she replied with a giggle, “I learned from the best.”

He felt the tips of his ears warm as he turned his turned his attention back to the portrait. It was haunting to feel like he was looking in a mirror that had painted. From the eyes to the cheeks to the nose and hair, it was all him, except for the bread. He would never grow something as ridiculous as that. Rey eyed the painting too, but in a somber way, as if she was lost in a memory of something.

“I can’t believe they found it,” she said under her breath.

“Found this?” Ben asked, “Do you know something I don’t?”

She seemed like she might answer until a knock came to the door. Gwen’s secretary interrupted to say that the associates were here.

**London 1565**

Kira looked over the grant banquet. England and Wales had settled their differences and choice to rule side-by-side. Her husband drank and was merry with the court, whispering profane things to her now and again that made her stomach knot. She had not expected his return so soon, after her nightmare, she had avoided Kylo at all cost. She would meet Bazine’s gaze anytime she was in her company and see her knowing glance. If she knew what was best for her, she would not be alone with the man. So for the lessons he would give her on his craft, she would have her ladies join with her. He seemed unamused to help the ladies of the court learn such a skill, but if it was his only chance to see he was muddle through with it. Soon by the end of the month, that England and Wales had come to a settlement, that they would be brothers once more and her husband was eager to get home to his wife. Now here she was, watching the court celebrate in a new treaty and she was miserable.

“If it would please the court, I would like to make a presentation of the queen’s portrait,” Kylo announce for the room to hear.

“It would please me to know how a great artist has portrayed my breathtaking wife,” Poe said with pride as he took Kira’s hand and ushered her to the floor.

Two page boys set up the easel and covered portrait as Kylo bowed before the king and queen.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the court, your grace,” he nodded towards Poe, “your highness,” he met Kira’s gaze, “I present to you, your queen, Kira Leclair Dameron.”

With a grant sweep of the cloth, Kira was in awe. He did paint in the blue gown he favored the most. Her hair adorned with flowers like roses, lilies, and poppies as a soft smile played on her lips. She did not look like a queen, but instead a fairy of the glens. She looked at Kylo as he addressed the stunned audience. 

“I know it is not the traditional setting to paint a woman in such a way, but if your grace will allow it, I felt that this was the best way to display your queen’s true beauty for the world to see. All the kingdoms will be envious of what you have,” he said as he turned towards Kira once more, “I know I am.”

Kira felt her heart stop in that moment. His words seemed to go unnoticed by the king as he thanked him for his services and said he would be paid handsomely. 

“The sooner, the better, my lord,” he responded, “I feel as though I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“Nonsense,” Poe chuckled, “you have become a dear friend to the court. In fact, it would do me the honor if you were to be knighted.”

“Knighted? Your grace, I’m not even of the country. To accept me as a foreigner...”

“Will strengthen my ties with those in Germany. My wife is French after all. Think of yourself as a German diplomat in my court who can help me with my relations,” he said as he signaled for wine to be poured, “To Sir Kylo Ren, may his art love on forever.”

**London 2019**

They were two gentlemen of varying heighten. The first one a thick curls and bread with an infectious smile as he shook hand with each person, pausing a great deal of time when he shook hands with Rey. His smile soften more as his eyes looked her over as she stiffen slightly, but was polite nevertheless. The second man was taller with red hair pulled back in a ponytail with an air of haughtiness to him. He was not as approachable as the other man, but his eyes seemed to glance over Rey as well, making Ben very uneasy with the way he eyed her.   
 ****

“Nathan Issac and Caleb Gleeson are both very excited to see what we’ve worked on thus far,” Gwen announced.

“We’ve heard nothing but good things from you all,” Nathan smiled as he placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head, “It is truly an honor to be in the presence of such young talent.”

The group gave their thanks to him as Gwen led the gentleman over to the king’s portrait. Nathan stood in awe as he seemed to be moved to tears as Ben raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s too good to be true,” Nathan whispered. 

“Marvelous work,” Caleb noted, “It almost looks brand new.”

“Well, that’s Ben Solo for you,” Gwen gleaned, “He’s the best in the business.”

He shook hands with both of the men as they grilled on technique and restoration process. He felt Rey’s eyes in the back of his head as she disapproved of the men communing with each other. Nathan seemed to hang on every word as Caleb examined the piece closer. Gwen turned to shoo her away, making help back to her station to look over the landscape as the men continued to talk. It was genuinely refreshing to have conversation with a couple of intelligent men in his line of work and he looked forward to seeing them again. As he and Gwen escorted the men out, contact information was exchanged as they made plans to meet over dinner to discuss more the project. When they left, Gwen was quick to clap her hands to get everyone back to the stations as Ben circled each station to aid in questions they may have had. 

Finn had rough hands, so peeling a canvas off its stretcher did not come so easy. Rose over looked a few tears, but those were easy fixes. Kaydel was possible the best out of the bunch as she took her time examining every inch. Ben suddenly was enamored by her attention to detail that he gave her high praise and set her as an example for the interns to follow. Rey, however, was not pleased by this. She sent glares towards Kaydel whenever Ben’s back was turned or chose to mumble incoherent insults towards her in French. Ben chose to ignore this sudden childish behavior and wished to talked to Kaydel during lunch about considering a career in restoration. 

She was delighted to accept looking smugly over at Rey. 

**London 1565**

“My dear, whatever is the matter?” Lord Wexley asked as Kira was entertaining him.   
 ****

“I feel I may have overstepped my boundaries,” she answered as she served him wine, “My husband has a sudden interest in me and wishes to lay with me.”

He raised a fuzzy brow at this sudden declaration. 

“And Master Ren? Did you express this sudden affection your husband has developed for you?” he asked as Kira shook her head, “So, what will you do?”

“I don’t know, Temmin. I had hoped you would provide me with some guidance,”she sighed as she fixed her gaze on her drink, “I’ve been avoiding Poe for nearly a week, but his patience seems to be running thin. And Kylo, his jealousy is unbearable as he scowls behind his back. I’m at a crossroad I cannot bear anymore. I feel like I might be torn in half.”

The huntsman comforted her as she cried softly. He felt as if he was dealing with the broke heart of a daughter he never had. His son married well. His wife very happy with him, but to see his queen in such a manner, he felt he had to do something. Maz returned to let the know the king would be arriving soon. Kira looked at him with a pleading look to not abandon her. 

“Now look here,” he said in a firm tone, “You are stronger this. It is you duty to give the king an heir. By avoiding this any longer would be an act of treason. I promise you the king is a kind man. You know this. I know this, so you are in good hands. He’ll not do anything that would harm you. If you know what is best for you... you’ll forget the painter. Forget about his sweet words and soft gaze. You are queen. You are above this and no one can take that from you.”

There was a knock at the door, which was his cue to leave. With a soft kiss on her cheek, he knew what he must do. Even if it were to help in keeping her sanity, he would do this for her. 

**London 2019**

Ben found Rey waiting for him on the same ledge, sketching away with her headphones in. She didn’t look up as he walked pass, but merely hopped down from her post like a graceful cat.   
 ****

“I was thinking about what you said and I think a career in restoration wouldn’t be bad,” she said as she tucked away her sketchbook, “I’m sure I could find time to do original work of my own, but saving and preserving history would be so rewarding.”

“Where are you going with this, Rey?” Ben asked as he was slowly getting annoyed. 

“I’m saying I’ve truly enjoyed my time at the institute that I want to keep going.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been itching to leave since the moment you got in, and today only proved it more. Childish jealousy is no way to move up in the world.”

“Childish jealousy?” she laughed, “Me jealous of that half-witted blonde who thinks so highly of Van Gogh? She’s more basic than white bread.”

“And yet you couldn’t stop snickering behind her back as she ate lunch with me and Gwen today,” Ben scolded as she tried to hide her blush beneath her scarf, however he found the confidence to cup her chin to make her meet his stern gaze, “Don’t lie to me, Rey.”

She squirmed, but it only made him tighten his grip.

“I don’t like to be lied to,” he continued as he leaned in closer, making her still as his eyes drifted towards her lips, “What do you want from me, Rey? Tell me.”

Her lip quivered slightly as her eyes grew wider. She bit her bottom lips as she contemplated over the question before finally answering. 

“I want you to be mine.”

“And how do I fulfill that request?” He tilted her head to the side as he nibbled on her earlobe, making her suck in a breath of air as her nails dig into his leather coat. 

“Fuck me,” she whimpered. 

“Only when you’ve earned it,” he whispered, relaxing her from his hold and continuing his journey to the tube. He wasn’t going to play her silly games. He had given in too quickly. Now it was her turn to prove herself to him. 

**London 1565**

She felt hollow after Poe had finished. Of course had been warned that it would hurt and her husband did everything in his power to make her feel comfortable as he lead her into true womanhood, but she felt empty. A space that should have been filled left her emotionless. When he thought she was asleep, he snuck out into the night, leaving her more confused and sorrowful than before.   
 ****

The few times before when she had exposed herself to Kylo, he had shown nothing adoration for her body. He praised her body like it a heavenly creation to look upon. Though only in brief moments for him to draw, he still found the time to talk about the inspiration he got from just gazing up her bare back. Poe did not whisper poetry in her ear as he ‘made love’ to her. Instead his hot breath was on her neck as he hovered over her, thrusting into her till he was spent.

He may have whispered an ‘I love you,’ before he left, but all Rey could hear was static as she tried to find comfort in this mess. 

Soon the weight of the bed shifted again, alerting her that maybe the king had come back for more. Frightened, she curled herself into a ball and squeezed her eye shut to feign sleep, hoping that he wouldn’t wake her. She didn’t want to go through that again. It felt wrong. She felt used. She never wanted to feel that way again.

“Meine Mohnblume,” came a soft voice and a gentle hand laid on her shoulder. Kira turned herself and saw Kylo sitting next to her. In a matter of seconds, she threw her arms around his neck and wept into his chest. Pulling her into his lap, he began kissing and wiping every tear that fell as he comforted her.

“Je suis tellement désolé, mon amour,” she wept as he hushed her.

“Lord Wexley told me everything. It’s all right. You’ve done your part.”

“Then why do I feel so hollow? I’m no better than a heifer.”

“Never say that again,” he growled, “You are more than that. You are one of the most powerful women in the world. Anyone would kill to have your titles.”

“But what good is a queen who loves any other?” Kira questioned, “I should want the king to lay with me at night, but every time he… he… I always thought of you. I had hoped he would change into you.”

Kylo was silent for a moment. Perhaps Kira had misspoken and this was not what the artist wanted. Soon enough her anxiety was lifted as he kissed her gently on her mouth, but soon gentle kisses turned into needy and hungry kisses as he pushed her back onto the bed.

“Forget about the king, my love,” he whispered as he shifted her covers, pulling back he removed his shirt, “Tonight you truly lose your virginity to a man who loves every fiber of you,” he kissed her neck as he toyed with her breast, “I’ll make you forget about him,” he light nipped her shoulder, “He will not creep into your nightmares. Instead you’ll only dream of me,” he began to suckle on one of her nipples as he wedged him into place.

Kira felt her body slowly ignite. An inferno that had been simmer before was now overwhelming. Was it possible for a man to wipe away the sins of another and make you feel anew? Kylo seemed to under the impression that he would make her forget what happened merely an hour again and Kira was slowly believing as his fingers dipped into her nether region.

“You seem to already be forgetting him,” he chuckled as she wriggled in his hand, “How do you feel?”

“Hot,” she whimpered against his mouth.

“I see now why Adam to the apple from Eve,” he smiled as his thumb circled her sensitive bud, “if she looked anything like you, I would surly do the same.”

She felt the tip of his cock at her entrance. It surprised her as he adjusted himself before slowly proceeding. He was a much larger man than the king, which meant everything was larger. The king was met with little resistance from her, Kylo felt like he might tear her apart. Nevertheless, Kira gripped the sheet under her as she watched him slow slip inside of her. He offered her words of encouragement as she took him in. When he had finally settled inside of her, they both released a sigh together. This moment was very different from when the king was inside of her. Kylo took the time to allow her to adjust to his length as he softly kissed her.

“You feel so heavenly,” he whispered against her mouth, “I’m not worthy.”

“You’re more worthy than the foolish king,” Kira said as she wrapped her arms around his neck, “Now finish what you’ve started.”

Kylo started with a slow, lengthy thrust to enjoy the way her body formed around him. He whispered nothing but praises to her as she answered with soft whimpers. She encouraged him to change to pace and he gladly proceeded. Kira tried to stifle the moans she felt, but couldn’t contain them as the creaking of her mattress got louder. She had insulted the king by taking a lover after he was just with her, but in this moment she didn’t care. If she died for treason, then so be it. She would know that she had died a happy woman as she felt her reach true nirvana.

When he finished, his spent washed away all that had happened. The king could not compete with such a fine lover as Kylo. He kissed softly as he slowly pulled out. Kira couldn’t stop smile as he held her close. For treason, she would glad die for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Happy day after Christmas. Thank you all for your support! Nearing 4000 hits and over 200 kudos. I'm glad you all are enjoying this series as much as I'm writing it. Enjoy the smut while you can. There will be more to come soon enough. Season's greetings and if I don't post before the end of the year, I'll see y'all in the knew year.


	14. Father Garupe

**Lisbon 1634**

The young priest was having a hard time sleeping. No matter how many times he turned, he could not find a comfortable spot. His stomach was in knots as if something was going to happen, that something was wrong. What that was, he could not tell. Instead of fighting for sleep, he swung his legs over his cot and stretched.   
****

“God give me strength,” he mumbled before putting on his clothes. Wondering the monastery at night was forbidden, however, he felt God would forgive him if he chose to roam outside the walls in the early hours. Kneeling before his cross, he prayed for his Lord to give him the strength to make it through the day and to guide where he was needed. The people were lost sheep after all and needed a Shepard to watch over them.

Taking in the early sunrise as he overlooked the city of Lisbon. He gave thanks to God as he walked through the streets to take in his glory. The merchants that were readying for the market, acknowledged his presence as they asked for blessings for this fine morning. A woman offered him a poppy as penance and he took it, sticking it into his pocket for later. Perhaps it could be something to press into his bible.

“Blessed be to you and your work that God may smile down on you with good fortune,” he would say as he passed by, signing the cross to them before continuing his journey. His feet lead the way to whatever had stirred him this morning, but everything was so peaceful. When he came upon the pier, he felt a since of urgency. He heard the shushing of water as the ships came into dock. The salt air he could taste in his mouth as the wind blew through his dark locks, reminding him of the days as a boy when he, Sebastião, and some other local boys would play on the beach before being scolded to for missing lessons. However, now he was a man of 28, still in search for the answers to what he is meant to do with his life. God would show him the way and somehow, today led him to the last dock on the pier. He saw her, long locks of auburn hair flowing in the air as she stood on the very edge. Dressed in a white nightgown, she seemed obvious to the world around her. Francisco Garupe eyes her cautiously  as he approaches the dock. He watched her swayed from side to side as she seemed to contemplate what her next step should be. 

When he saw her leaned towards the water, that’s when he took charge. He lunged at her, grabbing her waist as she screamed. He slowly dragged away from the edge as she kicked and smacked him.

“Passe-moi le porc!” Her voice echoed across the bay, “Laisse moi partir! La bête! Monstre! Aidez-moi! Aidez-moi! Aidez-moi!”

“I don’t want to harm you,” he answered making her still in his arms.

“Impossible,” she murmured.

When the woman turned her head to look at Father Garupe for the first time. She froze. He watched as the color drained from her body as she gingerly touched his face. Her bottom lip trembled as tears began to form in her eyes.

“No… no… no! Diable!” the woman cried as she thrashed against his chest, “C'est un cauchemar! Je suis la malédiction! Va te faire foutre! Va te faire foutre, sale bâtard!”

“Please, madame,” Francisco tried to reason with her, “I only want to help.”

“Laisse moi partir! Je veux juste mourir! Je veux juste mourir! Aidez-moi!” She cried before fainting in his arms. The young priest had no idea what to do. This poor woman seemed to be mad. Whatever her suffering was, he could not just stand by and leave her like this. In his arms, he carried like a groom would for his bride. To the monastery infirmary first, he’ll see to it she gets the help see needs.

**London 1566**

The kingdom could rejoice for their queen was with child. Soon, heir would be born in the fall and the line would be secure. 

“You don’t know who the father is?” Lord Wexley questioned during a private walk with Kira.

“Shh… must you say it so loudly,” she cursed.

“Your grace, I may not care whose child it is, but perhaps it would be best if you told your lover not to glare every time the king expresses his excitement for an heir,” the Scotsman expressed as Kira laughed.

“Like Poe would notice.”

“No, but others might. It’s important for him to keep good face if he is going to be in the courts,” he offered her a seat, “Lord Hux has been snooping around again. Since this announce of this child, he is bound to find some fault with this. If you know what is best, you’ll do everything in your power to not draw attention. I’ve seen how Master Ren has caressed your stomach when you think no one is watching. The longing gaze he has when ever the king acknowledges the pregnancy is much to give alarm.”

Kira had not thought about that. Perhaps she had shown too much favor to the artist since he frequently visited her chambers more than her husband. There love making would nearly carry over till the candle wax was nearly gone, washing away any stains her husband may have left before. She had caught him one night muttering to her belly in German as if hoping he baby might come out of the womb speaking its father’s native language. And since the official announcement, Armitage had been a gnat in the king’s ear, constantly buzzing about how fond she had grown of the artist. 

 _“It might be unwise to have such a Casanova in your court,”_ she had heard him say and quickly she went to distancing herself from Kylo in public. They would never be seen alone together unless it was the privacy of her own chambers, where only the moon could witness the sinful acts they partake in. 

“I’ll heed your warning, Lord Wexley, but it cannot come from me. What Kylo needs is an ally in the court. The king can show favor but someone is bound to try and make him leave.”

“Would that be such a bad thing, my lady?” he asked as she frowned. 

“Unless you wish for me to die of a broken heart,” she cried. 

“I’m only thinking of your well being.”

“If you’re thinking of my well being then I wish for you to take Kylo under your wing. Teach what it means to be a diplomat for his country in a kingdom like this.”

Lord Wexley stroked his beard as he contemplated.

“For you, my queen, I’ll do what I can.”

**Lisbon 1634**

“Garupe, you can’t just sleep out here,” Sebastião warned as he found his fellow brother outside the infirmary for the fourth day, “If Father Miguel finds you out here, you’ll have to whip for your penance.”  
****

“I just want to know if she’s all right,” the young priest said as he rubbed his face.

He had been sleeping on the floor near the infirmary entrance every single night since rescuing the mysterious woman from the dock. When ever he was woken by the soft shuffling of feet, he would duck away in the nearest alcove and hide in its shadows from whoever was passing by. He knew what his brothers thought of him when he brought the unconscious woman to their peaceful monastery. The fathers who ran the infirmary told Fransisco not to worry about the woman and that she would be in good hands. However, he had heard her screams the first night that she had stayed. He ran through the doors following the others as she yelled and fought against them. Finally given a sleep aid, she had not stirred since then. 

They had told him that perhaps all she needed was sleep and that it was best to leave her be until they found a proper place for her. Father Miguel had said it would be best if the young priest stayed away from her. Attachments were forbidden after all and he had become a man of God. Nothing should come between him and his mission to Christ. Fransisco looked at the door to the infirmary and against his better judgement, went in. He heard Sebastião curse at him, but followed as well. The other cots were empty, the room was quiet and there she was, bathing in the soft glow of the moon. Her auburn hair spilled over her shoulders as her chest slowly rose up and down. The healthy glow on her cheeks were there as she slept soundly. Fransisco had never been moved by a woman’s beauty before, but if God created man in his likeness, he would believe that He made sure that she reflected that.

“Fransisco, we should go,” Sebastião hissed as he looked behind him, “Father Josue will be back soon to check on her.”

He merely nodded in acknowledgement.

“You keep watch then,” he said, “I just want to see her.”

“She’s fine, now let’s go.”

“Please, just give me a moment alone.”

He saw his friend battle with his judgement. If they are caught, they could be whipped for the sins, force to scrub the halls of the monastery for weeks, and be banned from teaching. Sebastião shook his head.

“Five minutes and then we go,” he said sternly before heading back to keep watch.

Fransisco looked over the young woman once more. He knelt by her side and began to pray. He first prayed for her sins and that she not be condemned to any suffering she may have felt. He prayed that God gave the beautiful woman a second chance. He then prayed for whatever the high priest chose to do with her that she be satisfied and happy with. And finally he prayed for forgiveness on what he was about to do. Leaning towards her cheek, he placed a soft kiss against it. It would be the only sin he would take part in, his own burden to bear, but what beautiful creature does not deserve to be admired by those lesser than she.

**London 1566**

Kira felt faint as she walked towards the great hall. There was something wrong. Placing her hand on her belly, she tried to comfort the unborn child. However that didn’t stop the dizziness she felt. She held herself against the wall to steady herself before ascending down the stairs. However from her sudden dizziness, she almost didn’t notice Bazine walking by or feel the sudden tug on her train as she lost her balance. The world slowly spun out from under her in slow motion. She could have sworn she saw the evil glint her her lady’s eye as she tumbled down the stairs. She heard shouting, shuffling of feet, her hand and head being held as her mind went in and out of focus. Why was the world so blurry? Why was her hearing so fuzzy? Soon she was being carried like a bride as she heard the soft rumble of Kylo’s voice.   
****

“Just hold on, Kira.”

**Lisbon 1634**

“She asked for you,” Father Miguel told him. The mysterious woman had finally awake from her slumber and had requested to see him. He was shocked, but nevertheless he would take the call as he walked with vigor to the infirmary. There she was propped against against the fluffy pillows the monastery had to offer as if she was royalty that they had to good fortune of being in the present of. She stared out the window for a while as he approached her cot.   
****

He didn’t know what to say. When he rescued, everything she said was in French. He hardly knew the language. He was lucky enough to even get by the bit of Italian he picked at his time at the Vatican.

When she turned her head, Francisco went perfectly still. She eyed him up and down, slowly as if evaluating his worthiness to be in the same room as her. Her face soften as it seemed that tears were forming. They slowly spilled over as she reached for his hand. She kissed his knuckles as she muttered softly. 

“C'est toi, mon amour. Tu es revenu vers moi.”

She continued to kiss the palm of his hand and wrist that Francisco didn’t know what to do. To feel her soft lips on his course skin was heavenly. He shouldn’t delight in the way she was so affectionate towards him. Yet here he was allowing himself to cup her face as his thumb wiped away any stray tear that had fallen. 

“Vous souvenez-vous de moi?” she asked, “Votre coquelicot? Votre inspiration? Votre femme?“

“What is she going on about?” came Sebastião’s voice as he entered the infirmary, “ What does she mean by wife?!”

Francisco immediately took his hand back as he turned towards his friend. 

“Is that what she said?”

“Honestly Garupe, you’re completely helpless,” Sebastião rolled his eyes, “Clearly she is mad if she is mistaking you as someone else,” he kneel by the woman’s bed as she glared at him, “Il n'est pas votre mari, madame. Il est le père Garupe. Il vous a sauvé de la jetée. Je suis le père Rodrigues.”

“When did you learn French?” Francisco asked. 

“A while back while we were at the Vatican,” he answered before turning back to the woman, “Est-ce que votre mari ressemble à cet homme?”

He pointed at Francisco as she turned her attention back to him. Her eyes sad as she looked him over. She then began crying again and turning away from the priests. She sobbed into the pillows under her as Sebastião tried to comfort her. 

“Libère-moi, bâtard!” she yelled, “Je ne veux pas de toi! Je le veux!” She began tossing her pillows at both of them as she screamed, “Sortez! Sortez! Sortez!“

From beyond the doors, they could still hear her wails as if she had mourned the lost of something great. 

“Do you think anyone is looking for her?” Francisco asked. 

“With a temper like that,” Sebastião huffed, “We’ll be lucky if she hasn’t murdered any of us.”

**London 2019**

Records showed that the young queen had suffered from three miscarriages before passing. In the king’s suicide letter, he had mentioned that his queen was the envy of all the courts, meaning that she was a constant target for scrutiny. The king blamed himself for her living with many enemies and was so blinded by what she truly want, that he regarded ever sending Kylo to the tower. Ben found it hard to stomach the letter as Nathan watched him.   
****

“Pretty deep stuff, huh?” The curly haired man asked before sipping his larger.

“Yeah,” Ben sniffed as he removed his glasses, pinching his nose, “Then why keep in the tower for so long? If the king felt he was innocent, why make him suffer?”

“Word is is that he killed himself before he even had a chance to pardon Kylo. With no heir of his own to take his place, the court had found a document appointing Reginald Hux, Armitage Hux’s first born, as his successor,” Nathan said as he slushed his beer, “No one knows if it was forged by the king’s hand or not, but he ruled for twenty years before his father confessed to his crimes. Hence the pardon being received so late.”

“And Armitage?”

“Vanished before justices could be served,” he replied sadly, “Many had conspired that King Reginald had helped his father escaped London before his trails, but there was no proof to link him.”

Ben sighed as he passed the suicide note back to Nathan for safe keeping. It was a lot to unpack. The waiter came over with their orders, however Ben wasn’t entirely sure he still had his appetite. 

“So what makes your employer so interested in this project?” Ben asked as Nathan began cutting into his steak, “I read articles on Tarkin, my father knew him personally and he’s never had an interest in renaissance art.”

“Oh, Gwen didn’t tell you?” Nathan asked as he took another sip of his beer, “It was your name that caught his eye. Caleb is in charge of looking up projects that need funding and I just help with research on said projects. When Tarkin saw your attachment to this, he immediately made learn everything there is to know about the great Kylo Ren and the forgotten king, Poe Dameron. I never knew him to be so invested in something.”

Ben nodded as he looked down at his fish. There was something almost familiar about this setting as he sat across from this man he met days again. Ben looked him over once more. He imagined the curls to be longer and more tamed. His beard would be fashion in the where his mustache would curl and his chin would be trimmed much smaller. He watched the way he ate, very proper as he cut into the cooked meat. If it weren’t for the gray waist coat and Black Sabbath tee shirt, Ben could swear he was eating with royalty. 

**Lisbon 1634**

Father Miguel and Sebastião had spent hours trying to talk to this woman. She would not give her name, her family name or where she came from. She only request was to see Francisco. Both men felt it was unwise for him to see her, seeing that the two times she had, she had fainted or thrown a tantrum. Not that it wasn’t any better when they refused her request. She threw bowls, jugs and pillows at them and refused any help from their medics until she had seen Francisco.   
****

“It would be unwise, Garupe,” Sebastião warned, “They will punish you for going against their wishes. Or worst that woman will kill you.”

“There is a reason she wants to see me, Rodrigues,” he said as they approached the infirmary. 

When he opened the door, he found two of the medics forcing her down on the bed and another trying to force a sleep aid in her mouth. She kicked and growled like a wild animal before biting the hand of medic. 

“Oh! Ungrateful bitch!” He raised his hand to smack her, but Francisco grasper his wrist before he had a chance. 

“Leave us,” he demanded. 

The stunned medics bowed and signed the cross before leaving to tend to the one with a bleeding hand. Francisco looked upon the wild woman as she stared up at him with those captivating hazel eyes. Her auburn hair spilled all over the pillows as her cheeks were flushed. A soft smile slowly grew across her face as she reached out for him. He took a step back, not wanting Sebastião to judge him for how easily he allowed this woman to touch him. The smile fell as she raised her brow in concern. Concern suddenly turned in to anger as she turned her attention towards Sebastião. 

“Vous avez dit qu’il ne viendrait pas et le voici maintenant,” she said in a haughty tone, “Qu'est ce qui a changé?”

“Il voulait te voir,” Sebastião answered with a sigh. 

The woman looked back at Francisco and smiled, beaming at him like he was someone she had known before. 

“Tu te souviens de moi?”

“I... I don’t know what she is saying...”

“She asked if you remember her,” Sebastião said as he grabbed two chairs for him and Francisco to sit. 

“Oh... from the pier?”

“De la jetée?” 

“No,” she whispered as her smile started to fall once more, “Je suis désolé. Je dois vous avoir confondu avec quelqu'un d'autre.”

“She said she’s confused you with someone else.”

Francisco sat as she watched her turn away from them. He heard the soft sniffles as his heart slowly began to ache. He had saved her from a watery grave and now he feared that she might try again. Looking around, he found a brush left on a table. Taking the brush in hand, he aided to help her sit-up. Taking her soft locks in his hand, he ran the brush through her hair. He felt her stiffen slightly under his fingers, but relaxed as the brush ran through her hair. He could still hear the soft sniffles of the woman’s tears, but felt that she appreciate the gesture. 

“You do understand, Garupe, that she can’t stay,” Sebastião warned. 

“I know,” he answered as he began to braid her hair, “but we should at least help her feel some sense of dignity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise new chapter because I'm sick. So I have nothing better to do than just write. I hope all are still enjoying the story. I know some of y'all have questions about the story and I am trying to answer them the best that I can. Thank you again for all the support, it truly means a lot to me. nearing 4000 hits and over 200 kudos. I am so amazed. More to come soon.


	15. No Portrait, No Funding

**London** **2019**

The landscape restoration was coming in nicely. Finn had learned how to have a gentler touch, Rose could pick the right colors to make them look vibrant, and Kaydel could truly make the painting look brand new. However Rey seemed to show uninterested in her work, seeing as she made very little progress on the piece she was given. For being so determined to earn his favor, she was lacking in the determination to help with this project. He heard the click of the door behind him, indicating that someone had entered. 

“Your lack of progress is concerning and I want to know why,” he said not looking up from her work. 

“Because it’s a larger piece than the others,” Rey stated as she started hanging up her coat. 

“That’s a terrible excuse, Rey,” Ben replied as he looked over his glasses, “Is something bothering you?”

“Well beside the fact I gave you head and you ate me out, but you want to be all distant and shit.”

“Don’t say that out loud,” he scolded as she glared at him.

“It’s just us here! Beside who would care? Finn and Rose are pretty much rabbits an no one bats an eye at them, why should they care if we’re sleeping together?”

“That’s different. I’m still your superior.”

“It didn’t bother you when we were in Boston…” she said softly, “You were willing expose yourself and share some vulnerable things with me there… Now you just want to treat me like a child or pretend I don’t exist…”

He heard her sniffling softly, tugging at his heart in a familiar thump.

 _I_ _hate_ _when_ _she_ _cries_ …

He walked around the work stationed and gathered her in his arms.

“I’m really bad at this,” he admitted, “I had a girlfriend who told me I was more in love with my work than her. Maybe that’s why I like what I do. If I look at the past, I don’t have to focus on the now.”

“That’s such a dumb excuse,” Rey sniffled, “What matters is here and now. We only have this life… These moments…” she tightened her grip on his sweater, “Everything that happens now matters the most… I’m sorry if I’ve been childish.”

“I’m sorry for being distant,” Ben pulled back, looking into Rey’s bloodshot eyes. He wiped away the few tears that fell before pulling her in for a tender kiss.

 **London** **1566**

She felt numb. She had not left her chamber for nearly a week. She hardly ate. She didn’t want to see anyone. She didn’t want to see their sorrowful looks or hear their pity. She’s still young. She can have another… What good is she as a woman if she can’t protect what she didn’t have yet. She should have heeded the warning it was trying to tell her. She should have gone back to her room and rested. Poe would have understood if she didn’t show. Instead now she stares out the window, empty from tears as she watches spring turn into summer. She looks down at the ground below. Perhaps the fall to her death wouldn’t be so bad. Perhaps it would be insist and she wouldn’t feel a thing. She leans a little bit more out the window. They wouldn’t miss her. She stands at the edge of the sill. No one would care. She takes a deep breath, inches a foot over…

“Kira!” Kylo shouted and pulled away from the edge, “What is wrong with you? Why would you try something like that? Dummes Mädchen! Du willst mich töten? Brechen mir das Herz? Du Idiot!”

“Please don’t yell at me…” she cried, “I… I don’t even know what you’re saying…”

The tears came again and Kylo’s face softened. He held her in his arms, bridal carried her to her bed and laid next to her as she sobbed in his chest.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she sobbed, “What if my husband comes or one of my ladies?”

“The king has taken his court on a hunt in hopes to lighten everyone’s spirits about the lost of the unborn royal,” he said, “I feigned illness to come to see you… I’m glad I did.”

“He would have had your locks, Kylo…”

“Shhh, love… it’s okay.”

“Thick, black locks like yours…”

“You don’t even know whose child it would have been.”

“He was yours…” she whispered, slowly falling asleep, “He told me in a dream…”

 **London** **2019**

Ben didn’t know what he was expecting after this meeting with Caleb, Nathan and Gwen.

“Without locating the queen’s portrait, we can’t continue this project,” Caleb noted.

“So you’re just going to pull funding like that? Only because we can’t find one bloody painting?!” Gwen fumed.

“It’s not pulling funds, Ms. Phasma,” Nathan explained, “It’s limiting funds. Mr. Tarkin really believes in this project, he just doesn’t want to put all his eggs in a basket.”

“What about the landscapes? Those were from generous donors that want to see this project through,” she argued.

“Landscapes are fine and the authenticity is there,” Nathan started.

“But Tarkin doesn’t want Kylo’s later pieces,” Caleb finished, “He wants the forgotten king and queen.”

“Sorry,” Nathan followed up before the gentlemen left.

“Well that was a load of bull,” Gwen spat as she paced, “What are we supposed to do?”

“Is there anyone you can get in contact with about locating her portrait?” Ben asked.

“Of course,” she snickered, “I’ve been storing her portrait in my ass the entire time.”

“No need to be a dick about it… I just asked.”

“Well Ben, my boy, unless we can locate this queen’s painting, we might as well forget about this grant exhibition we wanted for Kylo.”

When he entered back into the studio where Gwen was delivering the bad news, he watched Rey the entire time. Then he thought back to the old sketch they had found in the trench. Finn had said she looked a lot like the woman in the sketch. Perhaps… he had found a way to save this project.

 **Lisbon** **1634**

The mysterious woman apparently had a husband who was tall with a ginger hair and beard and glass like green eyes. He didn’t seem as friendly as the woman, but seemed somewhat relieved to find his wife. Though he kept a friendly air between Sebastião and Father Miguel, Francisco couldn’t help but feel a bit wry from this visitor. He went to the infirmary before the men had a chance. From the little he could understand, it sounded like he was ready to collect his wife. When he entered the room, the woman’s face lit up only to darken when she saw the concern on his face. 

“Uh... husband...” he stammered, “ton mari... ici...”

“Mari?” she repeated confused. 

“You don’t have a husband? Uhh... ton mari... no?”

She shook her head as he heard the footsteps in the distance. Panic ran through his blood as he helped her out of the cot. Towards the window he opened where a bush was underneath them. He jumped out first before reaching for her. She stared confused as the voices behind the infirmary got louder. 

“Sauter,” he said, “S'il vous plaît.”

Without a second guess, she leapt from the sill and into his arms. Once safely on the ground, he took her hand and they bound for the woods. There, they could hide for a while. His brethren wouldn’t be looking for him and she... he didn’t think about her... however for now he was helping her. At least he would like to believe he was. 

 **London** **2019**

Ben studied over the king’s portrait carefully. He took in every brush stroke and detail he could see. He took a sample of the paint to send to the lab in hopes to get the compounds. If he can replicate a Kylo Ren piece, he had to make sure he got everything right. Pulling out his phone, he took pictures of the piece to look over when he got home. Once satisfied, he placed it back in storage before heading out. Rey waited for him on her same perch as he walked down the steps. She didn’t move when he walked passed which made him stop. 

“Are you coming?” Ben asked as she didn’t look up from her drawing. 

“Depends,” she muttered as she started erasing, “Are you inviting me?”

He approached her perch and looked at the sketch she was drawing. It was him only without his glasses and at a quarter angle. His eyes downcast, his mouth in a pout and his brow creased. 

“Not very flattering,” he noted, earning a smile as she looked up from her work. 

“I don’t know,” she smirked, “I think he’s quite handsome. I especially like his star kissed face.” She lightly traced each mole he had on his face before kissing his cheek. 

“Come on, Rey,” he said as he offered his hand, “We have work to do.”

“What kind of work?” she asked as she hopped down. 

“We have to create a convincing forgery.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a short chapter but it’s a chapter. Happy new year! I hope you’re still enjoying this. I know I like writing this. Come back anytime.


	16. God Will Look Away

**Hollywood** **1946**

Toby Grisoni had just drove up to his mansion in his iconic maroon Roadster. The movie business was bombing and soon he would be releasing his version of Don Quixote. However his wife, Rosanna Ricci, had not been happy with the overnight stays he would have on set, leaving her at her wit’s end with their children, Emerson and Zelda. So in order to appease his restless wife, he had his assistant contact the local nanny agency for anyone who can handle a 5 and 2 year old. The pay would be good and there would be a place for them to stay in the adjacent guest house. As he parked, he pulled out his briefcase and approached the front door.

“Daddy!” Out bolted a boy with thick black locks like his own and ears that were too big for his head with a crooked smile from ear to ear.

“Hey champ,” Toby answered as he picked him up, “man, you’re getting heavy. What they been feeding you? Is it grains?”

“No,” the boy giggled.

“Oats?” The boy shook his head as he laughed.

“Hmmm… now what could it be…”

“Potatoes!”

“Potatoes?” The boy nodded.

“And carrots with peas and chicken.”

“And you ate all of that?” He nodded again as they entered into the house, “Well, I’m sure Mommy will be very happy to hear that.”

“Mommy went into town,” the boy said as Toby placed him on the ground, “We’ve been with Miss Mary all day.”

“Miss Mary? Who’s Miss Mary?”

As if on cue, Toby looked up and saw this radiant being descend from the staircase. Much like Scarlett O’Hara, she knew how to make a grant entrance. Instead of an antebellum dress, she was in a simple blue dress and white apron with her hair styled in a nice bob.

“You must be the reluctant husband Mrs. Ricci was talking about,” she said in a posh British accent, “I’m Mary Debenham. The agency sent me over.”

She extended a hand out as Toby looked her over. She looked young. Too young to be a nanny in his book and this that pretty smile, she was far too good to be looking after kids.

“The agency sent?” Her smile seemed to waver as bit as he didn’t immediately accept her hand. He instead walked around her, looking her over as if he was looking at a new actress. She had a slim waist, great complication, and sparkling hazel eyes. With her height she could go far and Hollywood does love a good accent. She could be the next Ruby Keeler. Maybe she was from the other agency that sneaks in these actresses into directors homes, hoping to catch a big break. Once he was finally in front of her again, he squinted his eyes and leaned in close.

“Do you know who I am?” Toby asked as he watched her squirm a bit.

“Uhh… Mr. Ricci?” To which he threw his head back and laughed.

“Oh kid, you’re hired.”

 **London** **2019**

Rey watched as Ben stretched the canvas over the frame and hammered in each nail. Everything had to be just right. He created his paints last night from dyed powder and egg yoke. Once the canvas was placed on his easel, he turned to her with a smile.

“I need you to pose for me,” he said as she blink franticly.

“I…I don’t think this is a good idea, Ben. The portrait will show up. We just have to keep the faith,” she said as he had her sit in a chair.

“Rey, there is no document that shows what the piece looks like,” he said as he pulled her hair back and tucked it into a bandanna, “By recreating something, it helps keeps this project going.”

Her brow furrowed as he adjusted her blouse.

“And what, you’re just going to paint me and hope they don’t notice?”

He kissed her forehead before adjusting her pose so her head was turned in the opposite direction of her torso.

“Relax,” Ben said as he stepped behind his easel, “you’re getting your wish.”

She continued to pout as she turned her eyes towards the corner in his living room.

 **Hollywood** **1946**

Rosanna was drunk as she sloppily kissed Toby. She was giggly mess as they stumbled back in their home after a long evening of mingling with Hollywood royalty. All of this was necessary to promote his masterpiece, however, his wife saw it as an opportunity to get her foot back in the door. Now that they had a steady nanny, she could go out again, put herself out there for any acting jobs they had. The problem was Hollywood wasn’t looking for an actress like her. 26 and already washed up was what they had muttered, leading her to drink one too many cocktails. So here she was fumbling with her husband’s pants as she nodded in and out of conscience before falling asleep and Toby sighing.

“You’re not washed up,” he whispered, kissing her brow, “They just don’t know talent.”

He removed her shoes and shimmer dress before covering her up in their bed. With a sigh, he undid his tie and head back downstairs to the kitchen. He rummaged through the fridge to make himself a sandwich before hearing the sliding door from the backyard open. There he was greeted by Miss Mary Denbenham in a silk blue robe and her hair tied up in a net, to keep her curlers in place. When she entered into the kitchen, she was startled by Toby’s presents.

“Mr. Grisoni,” she said, “I’m sorry… I thought I saw your light turn off and… I was just getting some milk.”

He smirked, “I know all about your midnight snacks.”

“You do?”

“Sure,” he lathered the mayonnaise on his bread first, “Emerson said you two will have cookies after my wife has gone to bed.”

He watch her blush in slight embarrassment as she suddenly found her hands very interesting.

“Relax, kid. I’m not going to sack you over some cookies,” he winked as he layered lettuce, tomato, ham and Swiss, “So what’ll you have? Roast beef? Salami?”

“Ham and cheese is fine, Mr. Grisoni,” she said as she sat at the breakfast bar.

“Now Miss Denbenham, I think it is safe to say we’re beyond these formalities,” Toby replied as he started making her sandwich, “You’ve been here for four months. The kids love you and Rosanna thinks you’re a lifesaver. I think calling each other by our first names would be fine.”

“Oh… okay,” she took her sandwich and met his gaze, “Toby.”

His heart stopped in the moment. God, if he wasn’t a married man, he was destroy those lips of hers, make her come till it was only his name coming from her lips. But… he was a married man… with a beautiful, stunning blonde wife… and two phenomenal kids.

 _What_ _he_ _would_ _give_ _to_ _bury_ _his_ _cock_ _in_ _her_ _right_ _now._

He cleared his throat before taking a huge bite of his sandwich. It was too much of a cliche in Hollywood where directors slept around with the help, promising them careers just to blow their load into them before going back to their mrs. That would be a slap in the face that would send Rosanna over the edge. It wasn’t bad enough he couldn’t keep their liquor box well stocked. The last thing he needed. But just to have her for a night…

“Did you and your wife have a good night?” Mary asked, breaking him from his train of thought.

“It was a night,” he answered as he brought them glasses and milk for them, “The normal ragtag riffraff, same millionaires who have the right to tell what art you should make.”

“Are they telling you what to make?”

“No, no, no… I’m fortunate enough that they leave me alone.”

“But Rosanna, she’s not as fortunate…”

 He looked at his milk before take a sip.

  **London** **2019**

He watched Rey stretch her back as they took a break from painting session. The bend in her back was memorizing as she stretched like a slick cat. He smirked as he approached her from behind. Pressing himself against her back, he began to kiss her neck before nipping at her earlobe.

“You’re beautiful, you know?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, “Tell me again.”

“You’re beautiful,” he continued in between kisses, “and smart and talented and sexy,” his hand reached around her front as he gazed her sex through her jeans as he undid the buttons, “So sexy…”

“Mmm… is this supposed to make me feel better about doing something illegal?”

“Don’t think of it being illegal,” he said as his hand dipped pass her underwear to find her already wet, “think of us saving a man that needs to be save.”

“What is it about Kylo that makes you want to save him?” Rey asked as she relaxed against his body.

“He fell in love. That was his only crime and she died a tragic death. Why not give these lovers the proper ending they deserve?”

“Mon chéri,” his fingers sunk into her sex as she willed him in, “Oh… mon amour… plus…”

“Oh plus indeed,” he groaned as she giggled. She tugged his hand out and began licking his fingers, making him shudder. _God_ _that’s_ _sexy_. She pulled him towards his bedroom.

“Have I earned the fucking I deserved?” Rey asked as they approached his awaiting bed.

“Not yet,” he said with a deep rumbled that made her shiver, cupping her throat lightly before pushing her down on the bed, “but I’ll make you feel like you have.”

 **Hollywood** **1946**

Her lips always looked pretty with the deep rouge. The way they parted to show her pearly whites in a near blinding smile was fantastic. However, he did find her swimwear more inviting as she had taken upon herself to teach young Emerson and Zelda how to swim. The simple blue one piece hugged her curves just right as she laughed while the young boy kicked and splashed at his nanny and sister.

“Are you even hearing me, Toby?!” came Rosanna’s shrilled voice snapping him back to his wife who had a knife in her hand.

“I heard you, love,” he said after he cleared his voice, “What was it again?”

“YOU taking a break from filming, dear,” she strained as she went back to prepping her chicken.

“Of course,” he answered as he walked around the counter, slushing his brandy around, “MGM doesn’t need me for any big projects so I think a summer holiday in Florida would be nice. Just you, me, the kids and Mary.”

“Mary? You want to take the nanny?”

“Well, what if we want a night to ourselves?” Toby argued, “Can’t really do that if the kids are around.”

His wife raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Wether she knew of some of the sinful things he thought about Mary, she would never say, but deep down inside she knew. Which was what made her more cold towards the woman who was there to help raise her children. Toby saw it in the way she glare behind Mary’s back, how she watched as their nanny read their children a bedtime story or now how she was swimming with them, helping their three year old be less afraid of water as she jumped into her nanny’s waiting arms. With that she stabbed her knife into her cutting board before heading to their bar. Toby turned his attention back to what was happening outside. Emerson had truly become a strong swimmer as he helped in teaching his sister how to swim. It was no doubt in his mind that Mary loved his kids as her own. She readied them for school when it was in session, had meals ready for them each day, held them when they were sad or hurt, and watched as they fell asleep before leaving for her own bed. Truly she was slowly filling in the space their mother had left for them and Toby could feel that tug on his heart where he shouldn’t.

 _Just think about how that swim suit will slowly roll off her body. Exposing those freckles, her slender waist, her supple breast…_  

He shook his head before heading back toward the sink. She was just the nanny. Not a replacement for his wife and he certainly had to let his children know that.

 **London** **2019**  

Ben looked over what he had so far. For now it was an outline of a person. He need to fill in the hair, the face, and the clothes. He looked through old textbooks and reference guides on Renaissance art to see how royal he could make his subject. To find a Renaissance gown on such short notice would be unheard of. Then there was the problem with jewelry. Not much is known about the forgotten queen so to paint a rosary would seem like a bold statement. He pondered for a moment more. If she was a reader, she would have books with her. If she was a lavish person, she would be decorated in jewels. If she was a worldly queen, she would be seen with a globe. There was one thing he did know. She was a childless queen. He groaned as he tossed the book aside and started rubbing his eyes.

“Ben,” he heard Rey yawn, stepping out in one of his old shirts, “what are you doing still up? It’s nearly 2 in the morning.”

“Thinking,” he answered as he got up from his seat and headed over to her, “I’m being silly aren’t I?”

“What do you mean?” she asked as she wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest.

“This forgery bit just to save this project. I could risking my whole career for a man who’s been dead for nearly 500 years.”

“440 to be exact,” she corrected, making him chuckle, “and it’s not silly. Crazy, yes, but not silly. I can tell your heart is in the right place. Maybe you feel a connection to Kylo that no one else could understand. In the way your father failed, maybe this is your way of helping an artist not go unnoticed.”

Ben never really thought of it like that. Perhaps that’s why he liked restorations so much. He was giving artist the second chance his father never got. Now here he was, trying to save something that meant so much to him and to the others that worked on it. He couldn’t give up now, not when they had come so far. He kissed the top of Rey’s head before pulling her back into his bedroom. He looked her over for a moment in the soft glow of the winter moon. From the slight chill in his apartment, he could see her nipples blossoming underneath. The messy bed hair made her more heavenly than any other time he had seen her before. She had become a part of him, a big part of him, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake her away. Maybe he understood her comment on destiny, that something had brought them together… something that always brought them together. Then that weird feeling would sink in. That uneasiness that something was going to happen… if he tried to give in… it would only rip them apart…

 **Lisbon** **1635**

Francisco sat in the confessional box as the next sinner entered.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned,” he felt his mouth run dry when he heard her voice. The last he had seen her was when he paid for her passage to Spain, hoping that she would found salvation in another country, but that could not be. She only spoke French.

“Speak my child,” he said, remembering his duties.

“I left this country in hoping to find answers, but instead I’m left with my questions than I had before. Just last year, I thought of taking my life as to end my suffering, but instead God has seemed to think it is not my time to go,” he heard her shuffle, “Not only that, he even toyed with me by presenting me to a man who looked like my late husband. A man who has no idea who I am, but looks so much like him. I think about this man every night, of his kindness towards me, of the way he would look at me, and I have allowed my thoughts to drift into lewd places, Father.”

Francisco felt the tips of his ears warm as the woman continued her confession.

“I think about his kind eyes, his large hands, and his delectable lips. Oh… his lips are pure sin, Father. If he kissed me once, I don’t think that would stifle the flame,” she seemed to whimper, “And those hands of his could cup my breast so well. I can just feel his thumbs grazing against my nipples, making them sensitive to his touch.”

He could feel himself stiffening his pants as he adjusted. He thought he could hear to shuffling of fabric on the other side as she continued her confession.

“I’m thinking of those sinful things right now, Father,” she whispered in a hushed tone that would even tempt the Devil to yield, “He may not know it, but I’m allowing my hand to do those sinful actions. My fingers just grazing my cunt as it aches for him.”

Fransisco couldn’t take it anymore and he pulled away the divider that separated them. There she was with her breathtaking auburn locks and shimmering hazel eyes with her legs parted and her skirt hiked to reveal her beauty cunt. Francisco has never had the pleasure of looking upon the anatomy of a woman before, but his mysterious woman had given him the pleasure for the first time. God forgive him for what was going to happen next. She flung herself at him, her lips on his, stealing his first kiss and she straddled his waist.

“Mon chéri,” she whimpered as she wriggled against his aching cock, “Tu m'as manqué. Tu embrasses même le même que lui. Tu dois être lui.“

“Tu m’as manqué,” he murmured against her lips, making her pause and pull back.

“Tu parle français?” She raised a brow at him as he blushed.

“Only a little... Father Rodrigues has been teaching me... in case I ever run into a French person again.”

His mysterious woman smiled before kissing him again. It was much softer than the first one but soon grew hungrier and filled with want as her hand wondered lower.

“No... we shouldn’t... not here...” She softly shushed him as she released him from his trousers, gently caressing him as if she had done it before, making him twitch and groan.

“Shhh... Father... tonight God will look the other way,” he felt her warm entrance as she lined him up, slowly pushing herself down onto him, “He’ll forgive you for giving into what is natural. This attraction will be the death of us, but for now, let us indulge in what makes us human,” she sighed when he was full settled inside of her, “Je suis à vous. Tu es à moi,” she began lifting herself up, making him groan as he felt the drag of her walls, “Vous vous souviendrez de moi. Ensuite, nous pouvons vraiment être ensemble.“

He came shortly after that, spilling himself deep inside of her. He was dazed, confused and ashamed all at once, but she simply smiled, cradling him in her arms as she kissed his brow.

“I’ll come again. This will not be our last time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, a random update to keep y’all satisfied. How about we have sex with a priest as well? You all know you found Adam Driver as a priest delicious, don’t lie. Hope this was a good one. Next chapter is going to be a little angsty. Another time jump coming up.


	17. Hopelessly, Romantically, Fully In Love

**London 1566**

“It’s a boy!” Armitage Hux cheered as the court applauded. Kira stared blankly ahead as the men celebrated. Bazine seemed to have wormed her way into the crowd to hug the new father. She felt her eye twitched as the fair maiden looked smug at the queen. _Your enemies can have what you can’t._ She downed the rest her wine before leaving the hall. She couldn’t stand the sight of such a despicable man receiving such a celebration when he could hardly stand to woman he was with. She hoped he choked. She hoped he rots in a miserable grave. She hoped that Bazine ends up choking as well. Unexpectedly, she was pulled into a closet as she was making her way towards her chambers. A pair of soft lips found her as large hands held her waist and head.  
 ****

“I’ve missed you,” spoke a deep voice.

“Kylo,” she spoke in a panic, “Not here… there are too many people nearly.”

“Shhh… pay them no mind,” he hoisted her up as he kissed her neck, pushing her skirt up and undid his trousers, “You look so beautiful in blue.”

“Kylo,” she sighed as she felt him sink in. In a moment her worries disappeared. She had been so distant from him since her miscarriage that she almost forgot what it was like to have him. He fit so well as if he was meant for her. She had nearly forgot about the delicious stretch he provides as her head nearly lolls back. Her back against the wall, he set a steady pace. She bit into the cloth of his shoulder to keep her moans from escaping.

“You deserve better,” the artist whispered, “You deserve so much better. I could give you that.”

“You are. You always have,” she whimpered and kissed him, “Plus…” she whispers against his lips, “plus rapide… S'il vous plaît…”

“Scheiße!” he spilt himself in her as she gripped into his fabric and her toes curled in her shoes.

Her heart felt so much lighter. Kylo nearly dropped her as he flipped them so he could sink to the floor. She peppered his face in soft kisses before finding his lips. She shouldn’t fight this feeling anymore. Running away would be easier.

“Come away with me,” she said, “Come to the countryside with me and it’ll be just us.”

“Meine Mohnblume, I don’t think your husband would approve.”

“Baise le roi! I’d rather be with you than him.”

“Do you hear yours?” Kylo warned, cupping her cheek,  “You speak of treason.”

“For you, I would do anything,” she wrapped her arms around and buried her head in his chest, “I want to be happy... I’m only happy with you...”

“Shhh... Meine Mohnblume...” he held her close as she sobbed softly.

**London 2019**

“This is crazy...” Gwen hissed as Ben brought in his finished portrait.  
 ****

“You haven’t seen it,” he said as placed it on the easel.

“I don’t have to see it to know it’s crazy and dragging her into this,” she continued, “Ben, I understand your passion, but this isn’t... the... oh... my...”

She was stunned by the beauty in front of her. The rich reds and golds were vibrant and the crown was remarkable. A bouquet of poppies were painted in her hands and a gentle pair of hazel eyes. Rey was truly a perfect model. He places the king’s portrait next to the forgery and Gwen looked back and forth. She couldn’t spot the different. The style was the same, strokes were the same, even the paint looked the same. She turned towards her colleague who waited with anticipation for her approval. He hoped that she would approve. She threw her arms around him and started to sob.

“Thank you. Oh god Ben, thank you! She’s perfect! Everything… How? I mean…”

“I used to do forgeries,” he admitted, “It was how my father made a true living, selling fakes to art collectors. He was never caught… Everything he made looked authentic, so I learned how to copy as well.”

“Ben…” Gwen said softly before looking back at the fake queen, “Do you think they’ll buy?”

“Let’s hope,” he answered as they held hands.

**Lisbon 1635**

She painted. That was one of her many talents. She could speak French, German, Spanish, Portuguese, and English. She could fashion her hair in many styles and weave in vibrant flowers with her nimble fingers. She was a well read woman, who could quote the Bible as well as sonnets and poems. She had an infectious laugh and an addicting smile. She was the most beautiful woman Francisco had ever laid eyes on, which made his friend, Sebastiao, worry. He would spy his friend watching as he and the woman would often walk in the monastery garden. He accused him of forgetting his vows.  
 ****

“Your purpose is to serve God,” Sebastiao scolded him one evening, “You took her away from her husband and now, you’re allow her to blind you from your true calling.”

“She is as lost as all God’s children,” Francisco argued.

“You duty is to your God!” he snapped, “You’ve allowed this harlot to blind you from your work.”

“Don’t speak of her that way,” the young priest barked back as he pushed his brother against the wall.

“Truly you are blinded. You’ve turned your back from Him,” his friend growled as he shoved him back, leaving him still heated from Sebastiao’s words.

At night, Francisco would sneak out of the monastery to see her. She live in a modest apartment for a woman where her room looked out to the sea. In the pale moonlight, they would make love. Francisco very timid and shy, afraid to do something wrong as his new lover guiding him into the ways of what should only be done by married couples. She was always patience with him as he explored her, learning everything he could about her body. He loved the softness of her skin, how it dipped as he pressed his hands against it. He enjoyed watching her nipples erect just from his breath as she shuddered under him. He was addicted to the way she sighed when he took her in his mouth and the way she tasted was sweeter than any wine he had ever had. More than anything, he loved how his name sounded from her mouth. He could listen to her say his name all night long.

Francisco took her from behind as she whimper under him. His hips snapped against her soft buttocks as she clawed at her sheets.

“Yes… ah… more… Francisco…” Music to his ears.

“No… love… I’m close…” the young priest grunted.

“Please… come… just come in me… I want it all,” she sighed as she turned her head towards him with a wicked glint, “Just come in me… I’ll take it…”

“Christ,” he cursed before spilling into her as laughed.

“God isn’t here now,” the mysterious lady laughed, allowing him to fall out of her as she twisted herself to pull him in for a kiss, “Oh… you’re so sweet, my priest.”

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he sighed as fell next to her.

“Yet, you’re here,” she whispered in his ear before nibbling on it, “You’re delicious, my pet.”

“Please, my love. I can’t again tonight.” She stopped and raised an eyebrow.

“What is troubling you, Father?” she asked as she brushed his hair from his eyes.

“Do… do you think I’m a good man?”

“Of course I do, mon cheri,” she whispered as she nuzzled his cheek, “Your heart is the purest heart I’ve ever met. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

“Ha… you’re talking about love and I don’t even know your name,” he scoffed as he sat up as started reaching for his pants.

“No, please don’t leave,” she pleaded with him, throwing her arms around his neck, her lips grazing his shoulder, “You can give me any name, Father. Any name and I’ll burn it into my skin.”

“You speak of madness, woman,” he shrugged as he stood, putting his pants on as she grabbed his wrist.

“Please Francisco,” she pleaded as he stared back into those large, hazel eyes, “Don’t leave me. Not now.”

He felt his breath hitch as she stood up before him. Her auburn hair fell over her shoulders, brushing against her breast as she rubbed his arms. She kissed his bare chest, then his neck, his chin, his cheek, and finally on his lips. Oh… he loved kissing her. This bewitching woman who has lead him astray, she was pulling him back, to drown in her waves. She nibbled lightly on his bottom lip as she pulled him back to the bed.

“Kira,” she whispered against his neck as she straddled his lap, “Kira Leclair… I’m a French girl… I lived with a king… fell in love with a painter… and died… Only to live again…”

“Kira,” Francisco murmured, “You died? As in a metaphor?”

“No… I died, only to live again…”

**Bamburg 1590**

Kira stared out at the field of poppies, watching the elder painter from afar. The priests had told her this is where he liked to go. They said he has done nothing, but paint the field for the past 10 years. _10 years…There is no way it had been that long…_ His hair was still long with streaks of grey. He was still large as ever. She slowly approached, keeping her cloak close to her body and her hood over her head. _Slowly… take it slowly…_ When she got closer, she could see he was still as handsome as he ever, if more. His lips still as plush as ever and his goatee still well trimmed. She was happy to see in his old age he still cares about his groom.  
 ****

“It’s a fine spring,” she said. The old painter didn’t look up from his work.

“Spring is spring,” he murmured in sort of grumpy tone. _So he has become bitter…_

“Still, it’s a pleasant time, especially in this field.” He merely humphed at her comment. “I like you painting.” He humphed again as he wiped his brush. “The colors are so vibrant. You really have a knack for capturing the field to the canvas.”

“Is there something that…” the old artist turned and went pale, “No… no… that’s impossible…”

Kira pulled back her hood, never breaking eye contact as he fell from his stool.

“No… you’re dead… Meine Mohnblume… You’ve come to haunt me… to curse…”

“No, mon amour,” Kira said as she approached him, he scooting away, “It is me. In the flesh, breathing, here for you.”

“No… you’re not real,” he tremble, tears welling up, “It can’t be.”

“Please, my love. Touch me and you’ll see,” she dropped down to her knees and reached.

“No,” he took his hand away as he continued scoot away, “This is impossible… I can’t… you can’t… you died…”

“Yes, but I came back,” she crawled towards him, “I’ve been given a second chance. No husband to tie me down. My family all gone. No snake to keep us appear. No vile woman to see you tormented. Now we can go far away and be together. Just you and I, mon cœur.”

She watched as he grabbed his chest. His breaths were coming short as his face was turning blue.

“Kylo… no… Kylo!” Kira lunged towards the older man as he cringed in pain. “Don’t do this! Not now! Not after I finally found you!”

“Meine… Mohnblume…” He caressed her face before his eyes went cold and he drew his last breath.

**London 2019**

The group held their breath as Nathan and Caleb looked over the portrait. Nathan’s face had a range of emotions while Caleb’s was just in a permanent sneer. Ben saw Rey biting on her thumb as her knee bounced up and down. He took her hand a gave it a reassuring squeeze. Nathan looked puzzled and Caleb was indifferent.  
 ****

“Where did you find this?” the thin red hair man asked, finally turning away from the piece.

“Anonymous donor,” Gwen simply put it as Nathan continued to examine it.

“She was beautiful,” he whispered, “Pure life that was wasted… I’m so sorry.”

“I still don’t think this is a Kylo Ren piece,” Caleb sneered as he eyed Ben. He marched up to him, glaring. “Anonymous donor or just a Solo trick. I read about you and your father’s dealings. Pathetic.”

“And yet what proof do you have that she is a forgery?” Ben challenged.

“Caleb,” Nathan said softly, wiping a few stray tears, “it is her. I can just feel it. Don’t you see it?”

Caleb’s eyes shifted to Rey as she ducked her head.

“Yes,” he sneered, “I see it.”

**Lisbon 1635**

Francisco was leaving the monastery when the red hair man attacked him.  
 ****

“You bastard!” He punched the priest, making him topple to the ground. “Where is she?!” He kicked him in the stomach. “Tell me where she is, you pathetic worm!”

“Who…” Francisco coughed, “Who are you talking about?”

“You… know… who… I’m… talking… about,” he kicked after every word before grabbing Francisco’s scalp, pulling his head, and making him stare into his glassy green eyes, “Tell me…”

Francisco felt his heart rate spike as he stared back into this menacing figure. He felt a hand around his throat as the red hair man squeezed his windpipe. He gasped and strained, wriggled under this man’s weight as he applied more pressure. He started to see black spots around him as he lost more air. He was going to die. He was going to die at the hands of Kira’s scorned husband. This was God’s punishment to him, for straying from his path, for allowing such a beautiful woman to seduce him. _Forgive me…_

“Let… me… go…” he gasped.

“Tell me,” the man growled, “Tell me and you’ll live.”

“Ahh…” he coughed,”… fuck… you.”

He felt his grip tighten as he let out a roar. Francisco watched his vision go blurry, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. It would be worth it. For her sake, at least she would be safe a little while longer. 

Then a weight was lift. He heard a scuffle happening next to him, men grunting as he slowly regain his breathing. Various words were exchanged in different languages as more people joined in. He heard a constable break up the fight as the red man shouted profanities at the man who attacked him. More profanities were exchanged before Francisco could see who had save him.

“Come on, my brother,” Sebastiao said as he helped him up, “It’s not your time to go.”

When they got back to their monastery, they sat in silence as the medics looked them over. Francisco’s bruises were iced as Sebastiao’s knuckles were wrapped. The head priest spoke to them and they listened. They offered him no answer to what truly happened, why this man attacked them or why they attacked him. He merely shook his head and offered to pray for their souls, that they should sit and ponder on the sin that they have committed.

Soon there was silence again, just the two of them in the infirmary. Through the quietness, so much seemed to be known. Sebastiao knew about the affair Francisco had been having. He knew how deep this affair had gotten, how he had been blinded by lust to allow this woman to seep into his core. He knew that he had partaken in sinful acts with this woman, in the garden of the monastery, off the property, and in the church. He also knew something that seemed more tragic than anything else he could explain. He knew that his fellow brother of Christ had fallen hopelessly, romantically, fully in love with this woman.

“If you know what is best for you, Garupe,” he whispered, “You forget this woman and never see her again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's me, your friendly neighborhood Reylo and man, it must be time for an update. Wow. It's been so long. (It's been two days) Still, I hope you are enjoying this story with the multiple Bens and Reys. Hooray! I do promise a happy ending everyone. Don't worry. The sun will come out tomorrow. I want to thank the lovely Luciefee for being my French teacher. She gave me so great suggestions on some terms of endearment and I'll be sure to use her more in the future. Thanks again to everyone else who has read and supported this story. Thank you for nearly 5000 hits and nearly 300 kudos. I'm glad you all are enjoying this. More to come in the future. Might not be updating as much as I have other projects and work I need to do. Thanks again. Until next time.


	18. You Were the Hardest One to Find...

**London 2019**

Ben looked over the paintings that had been restored. He was grateful that the students had learned so much from the techniques he had taught them. Finn’s work seemed to mix in with Kylo’s but it was effortless that only a true trained eye would notice. Rose’s attention to detail paid off as the countryside seemed to come alive before his eyes. The duchess portrait Kaydel had worked on almost looked brand new. No one would have known how badly singed the ends were or knew of the ash it was covered in.  Finally there was Rey’s large landscape of a French garden filled with poppies. Kylo’s favorite flower and seemingly Rey’s. She took the longest with this piece wanting to get everything right. Ben was very impressed that she as well was able to match Kylo Ren’s technique. She had grown so much since the start of this project. It was almost heartbreaking that it would be coming to an end soon. With February slowly coming to an end, March would be filled with finding the perfect venue to show these pieces, press conferences and so much more. The students would be able to mingle with some of the best in the art industry. Being attached to this project would mean that the world was at their feet. Any work that they could get, they would receive, and Rey…  
 ****

“What do you think?” her flitter voice came through, drawing his attention towards her.

“I think you’re brilliant,” he said as he watch her cheeks color. 

“I… ummm…” for once she is speechless as he leans in, cupping her face and stroking her cheek before someone cleared their throat. They turned to find Caleb standing in the doorway with a sour look.

“Am I interrupting something or are you always this intimate with your interns?” he asked.

“No,” Ben answered, releasing Rey as she shrunk behind him, “Can I help you, Mr. Gleeson?”

A smirk grew across his face as he approached the couple.

“I couldn’t help but notice so similarities between the queen’s portrait and your lovely student here,” he said as he eyed Rey, “Very similar and yet different. She seemed to be more mousy than the queen. Kira could hold a room’s attention, a worldly woman, and she would much rather hide behind a man who has no idea who he really is.”

“Connard,” Rey growled.

“Oh, so she does talk,” he said smugly.

“Yes, I can talk,” she repeated as she stepped out from behind Ben, placing herself between the men, “and I can do so much more than that. I’m fluent in four languages, I’ve read some of the finest works in the world, I’ve been to so many places and seen so many things.”

“Some could say you’ve lived for 500 years,” Caleb smirked as he leaned in closer.

“If you’re just here to taunt us, then I suggest you leave,” Ben snapped.

“Oh… he doesn’t know does he?” he nearly whispered, “Nathan knows. He knows everything.”

Rey continued to glare at him before reeling her hand back and punching him square in the nose.

“Va pourer en enfer bâtard,” she retorted before taking Ben’s hand and leaving the red headed man clutching his nose.

**Miami 1946**

_“You’re so soft,” he murmured, “You’ve always been soft.” She keened under his grip as he rolled against her. “And so tight… God… I could be buried in you for eternity.”_   
****

_“Maybe you will,” she giggled, cupping his face so he’s looking into her big, beautiful hazel eyes, “Kylo…”_

Toby woke in a sweat, his wife groaned next to him as he tried to catch his breath. No, he shouldn’t be dreaming about his children’s nanny like that, but his dick was telling him otherwise. Slowly he creeped out of the hotel bed and went to the far end bathroom, out of the master suite, where he couldn’t disturb Rosanna from her sleep. The last thing he needed was his wife seeing him masturbate. How would he explain that to her? _Oh yeah, honey. Just had this wild sex dream about the woman who’s helping us raise our children._ God he was pathetic. Never in his imagination would he stoop this low. Sure he had had opportunities to cheat on his wife. Other actresses, models, singers, producers’ wives had practically thrown themselves at the young director. They had seen his success and wanted a share of it. Just a small morsel, but Rosanna had been there from the very beginning. A raising star in her own right, who could sing and dance just like Ginger Rogers and was just as seductive as Lauren Bacall. He was lucky to have a woman like her. 

Now here he was, in a bathroom that was used by his kids and their nanny, jerking himself off as he bit into his fist as he thought about those hazel eye, pouty lips, and gorgeous brunette locks. 

The next morning, Toby was even more exhausted, keeping his sunglasses on as he read over the paper. His wife enjoyed her mimosa as Emerson chatted loudly about the dream he had. Mary was assisting Zelda’s food, cutting it into smaller pieces as listened intently to Emerson.

“And the a whale came and wipes us all away!” the boy exclaimed.

“Oh my,” Mary said as she sipped her tea, “You have quite the imagination, Emerson. I always love hearing your stories.”

“I’m sure you do,” Rosanna commented as she passed her empty glass towards the nanny, “Could you be a dear, Mary, and make me another? Extra bubbly.”

“I think you’ve had enough, dear,” Toby grumbled, not looking up from his paper, “We don’t need you passing out at the beach.”

“You want to go to the beach?” she sneered, “Since when have you ever wanted to go to the beach?”

“Since we decided to go to Miami for a holiday,” he answered looking over his sunglasses, “She’ll have coffee, Mary.”

“She’ll have another mimosa, Mary,” Rosanna gritted, turning her attention to the nanny, “Remember who you work for.”

“Ha, when was the last time you collected a paycheck?” His wife slapped him, leaving her handprint across his face. She dumped the rest of his breakfast into his lap before she grabbed the bottle of champagne and left them on the veranda. They heard the slamming of the door and Toby pounded his fist into the table, cursing under his breath. Zelda whimpered softly as Toby began to wipe the egg and grease from his white pants.

“Mary, can you get the kids ready for the beach?” he asked.

“Uh… would that be wise…”

“Mary!” he snapped, raising his voice as Emerson shrunk in his chair. He took a deep breath, relaxing his hand and jaw, “I’m sorry. Could you please get the children ready for the beach? I have to talk to my wife.”

Toby approached the master suite. When he tried the door, he found it locked.

“Rosanna,” he knocked at the door.

“Go away, you sexist pig!”

“Rosanna, come on. Let’s be adults.”

“Why? So you can rub it in my face that I’m washed up as well?”

“No one is calling you washed up,” Toby groaned, running his fingers through his hair is frustration, “Look I’m sorry for what I said, but I don’t want you drinking so heavily. Not when we’re with the kids.”

“Why does it matter to you?!”

“Because I want our kids to know their mother as a great actress, not a miserable drunk, damn it! Is that so hard?!”

The door opened and he was near pelted with his suitcase.

“You can sleep on the couch, you fuck!” When she went to slam the door, Toby wedged himself in between it and the frame, making a break for her. He grabbed her wrists and wriggled against him. Once he had her pinned down onto their bed, he straddled her waist to keep her from wriggling away. She screamed, breaking from his grip and clawing at his face. She poked one of his eyes, making him howl and she ran to the bathroom.

“Listen here, you ungrateful cunt!” Toby shouted as he banged on the door, “You wanted this vacation to spend time with our kids. To spend time with me! I could have been working on other movie, a project that I wanted you to be apart of, but you turned it down!”

“Oh sure, so I could play someone’s mother,” Rosanna answered, “I’m 27 and they wanted me to play that girl’s mother! She’s only 18, Toby!”

Toby stopped himself from punching the door. He hadn’t known that part. When he had suggested his wife for the lead, he had hoped that they would at least let her audition for it. He didn’t know that they had afford her the mother role.

“I shouldn’t have to lean on you for them to give me roles, Toby,” she snapped, “I am just as much of Hollywood royalty as you! I’ve been in more movies than you have ever made! I’m to true star here! They should be begging me to be in their movies… they used to beg… Christ…”

“Rose…”

“Go have your fucking beach day with your fucking kids and just leave me alone!” she screamed.

**London 2019**

Ben and Gwen sat at the bar as they were served their beers.  
 ****

“So just right in the face?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“Square in the nose?”

“Mmhmm…”

“She could have broken his nose, you know?”

“I know…”

“And you just don’t care?!”

“Gwen, how did you manage to pick Rey?” Ben asked, “Originally, when you had talked to me about this project, you said that there would only be three interns. How did you end up with four?”

She blinked, took a sip of her beer, and cleared her throat as she eyed the rim.

“She just showed up one day outside of the institution as I was walking him. She was in a panic, frazzled, asking about you,” Gwen started, “She pulled out this magazine article about you and your father. She pointed at your picture and asked when you would start working here. I thought she was some desperate fan of yours. I told her that you didn’t work there and to make an appointment if she wanted to see you.”

Gwen took another sip.

“She went on and on about her art degree and that she had heard from a friend about the art project that we were working. She wanted to be apart of it. I told her that there were no more openings. She followed me all the way to the tube and showed me her sketchbook… She’s truly talented, Ben. And the way she talked about you… it was as if she had known you for years…”

Ben looked at pale blonde, staring into her blue eyes. It was almost like looking at a ghost, but her words rung true into his core.

“She clearly has it bad you, Solo,” she laughed before taking another drink and Ben could only nod.

**Miami 1946**

The wave crashed upon the shore. His children were building a sandcastle with their nanny, giggling and laughing as Emerson created a story. Long forgotten was the outburst of the morning, the mean words exchanged between parents and the brewing discontent each spouse had for each other. How nice it must be to be so young and naive, free of the troubles that comes with adulthood? Mary seemed to be the best distraction Toby could have ever asked for as she laughed with Zelda while Emerson destroyed their castle. Soon they were chasing the waves and splashing in the water as Toby sat back in his deck chair, admiring them from the shore.  
 ****

“Excuse me, sir,” came a velvet voice as he turned his head towards the dark hair beauty in a reviling two piece, “Have a light?”

He pulled out his lighter and lit the cigarette for her. She blew a few puffs before acknowledging him again.

“Say, aren’t you that director of _The Great Affair_?”

“Who wants to know?” Toby asked as he turned his attention back his children.

“Oh, this is just a scream,” she said taking a seat next to him, “It’s probably one of my favorite pictures. Two star crossed lover who fall in love, but meet later on in another century, oh I died. I think it’s possibly your best work. And Rosanna Ricci, ah… what a beauty and that fella you got to play the artist… ummm… Jose Ramos-Horta. Whatever happen to that guy?”

“He swallowed a bullet,” he said bluntly as his kids came running towards him.

“Oh… I’m sorry… And um… Rosanna…”

“She married me.”

**London 2019**

Ben woke to a loud knocking at his door. He looked at his phone to see it was 3 in the morning. He grumbled to himself as he tried to ignore the knocking, but it only got louder.   
 ****

“Beeeeennnn Soooollllooo...” slurred a voice, “I know you’re there... Where else would you be on a Saturday night... or is it Sunday morning? Beeeeennnn... are you going to open or not?”

He groaned. He was not in the mood to deal with Rey’s drunken self. Rubbed his face, slowly got out of his bed as she continued to knock. 

“I’ve been a naughty girl, Ben,” she giggled against the door, “So so so naughty. I may have had a bit too much to drink... I must be randy...”

He opened the door as she fell against his chest. 

“Oh... you sleep shirtless,” she giggled as she poked at his pecs, “You lift, bro?”

“Rey,” he groaned as he held her at arms length, “it’s 3 in the god damn morning.”

“So, it is Sunday.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I went for some drinks with the gang. Finn’s idea as a celebratory drink for completing this thing. Rose was there. Finn was there,” her mood changed, “Kaydel was there. Cette chienne. Qui fait ce qu'elle pense qu'elle est? Parler de toi comme si elle te connaissait. She acts like she’s seen your cock. HA!” Then she paused, looked at him and glared, “Has she seen you cock?”

“What? No!” Rey flung her arms around him with glee and kissed him sloppily. He wasn’t sure where the copper taste came from as it seemed to seep in with the alcohol in her breath. 

“Good. I would hate to have to kill you,” she giggled, “Mon chéri, mon coeur, tu ne me trahirais jamais.“

She kneel before him, tugging at his sweats and fumbling for his privates, but he caught her hands and hoisted up. 

“Rey, not tonight. You’re drunk,” he said. 

“Why not? Is it because I punched that asshole yesterday?” she asked, grazing her lips against his shoulder, “Or because I started a fight with Kaydel?”

“You what?”

“I kicked the bitch’s ass,” Rey said with pride, groaned slightly when she gripped her side, “Chipped her tooth in the process... and got us kicked out of the bar...”

Ben turned a light in his living room and looked her over. She had a cut over her lip and on her right cheek. Her ponytail was a mess as if someone had pulled it and her shirt had a rip in the front. 

“Jesus Rey,” he took her hand and lead her to his couch, “Stay.”

**Miami 1946**

Toby was too large for the couch. He was fortune to find that there was a pull out mattress inside, so he could work with that. However he found he was too large for that as well. When he tried to door to the master suite, hoping his wife would take pity on him, he found that to be locked.  
 ****

“Damn it,” he cursed before making his way back to pull out. He paused when heard a strange noise. Soft whimpering. It had not come from his wife. He went to check on his kids to find them both sound asleep. Then he turned towards to room where Mary was sleeping. Leaning an ear close to the door he could hear the soft whimpers and moans. She must have been having a nightmare. The door lightly opened, giving him a chance to peek. The whimpers and moans sounded desperate, almost inviting, but Toby should just let her be.

“Harder,” she whispered, “Please… Toby…”

His breath caught. No… no... he was hearing things and should go back to bed.

“More… Oh… you feel so good. Please Toby…”

He should walk away.

“I’ve never been this wet…”

Go back to bed.

“Please…”

Turn away.

“Toby…” He looked in the crack. There she was, her nightgown over her ass, her panties dangling by her right ankle, and her hand rubbing her clit with determination. Her fold glistened in the soft moonlight as Toby stared with his mouth agape. He shouldn’t be watching this. She was having a private moment. _Fantasizing about you… just like you do about her…_ The door opened more as if inviting him in.

“Damn it… It’s not enough,” she cried as she moved one of her pillows between her legs and ground against it, “Please… I just want to come.”

He felt himself grow hard as he continued to watched the obscene display of lust. Her back to him as she concentrated everything she had on the pillow beneath her. Her hips were frantic and breaths were shorten as she tried reach climax.

“Please… Toby… make me come… Don’t tease me…”

He slowly entered the room, quietly closing the door behind him. With a snap of the lock, it made her jump and quickly begin to cover herself.

“Mr… Mr. Grisoni,” she was fluster, pushing her hair out her face and tried to catch her breath, “What are you doing up so late?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Miss Debenham,” he answered as he slowly unbutton his pajama shirt, “Why are you up so late?”

Her eyes lowered to his chest, taking in his well sculpted frame. Not many Hollywood directors cared about their appearance, but Toby had a workout regimen that could revival any of those actors. He reached for the drawstring of he pants and begin to untie them.

“Just dreaming,” she sighed as she eyed his crotch. His member strained through his briefs.

“Sounded more than just dreaming,” he smirked and he slowly approached her bed.

“We shouldn’t,” Mary argued, pulling her cover closer.

“We shouldn’t,” Toby repeated he crawled onto her bed.

“Your children are next door.”

“Right next door.”

“Your wife is across the way,” she allowed him to pull the cover away.

“On the other side of the suite,” he reached for the hem of her gown and pulled it over her head.

“This is a horrible idea,” she continued as she allowed his eyes to drift over her naked body.

“It is a horrible idea,” he whispered, leaning in closer, his lips grazing against hers, “Just push me away and we’ll never speak of this again.”

“The hell with that,” Mary sighed and flung her arms around his neck to complete the kiss. Her lips were delectable. He could feel her passion and lust behind her kiss and it just made him want more. He couldn’t remember the last time he received a kiss like this. He could almost feel the butterflies forming in his stomach as she climbed into his lap. Her ass fit perfectly in his hand as he against her. Her lips traveled from his lips to his jaw and neck.

“Oh mon cheri,” she whispered, “J'ai rêvé de toi.”

“Oui oui,” he groaned, making her giggle.

“You don’t speak French, do you, Toby?” Mary asked as her nose bumped against his.

“No,” he chuckled before she kissed him again.

“Would you like to learn?” She lovingly stroked his hair and gently brushed against his mustache.

“Later,” he grunted, throwing her back on the bed and began to rid himself of his briefs, “Believe you were asking me to make you come.”

**London 2019**

Rey winced as wince she slowly began to wake. Her mouth was dry, her head was pounding and everything in her ached. _What did I even drink last night?_ She slowly lifted herself up, but her right hand stung. She looked down to find it bandaged. She cradled it for a bit as she looked around the room she was in. Dark sheets, dark walls with a poster of Picasso’s _Les Demoiselles d'Avignon_ to her right and an artist’s easel stored in the corner. This room smelt like him, this rich pine and cedar smell that he always smelt like. She took the bed cover in her hands and inhaled. _Mon poison. Ma faiblesse..._ He had yet to make love to her and she guessed from her actions, she could permanently drive him away. She was just tired of playing these games with him. The others had been so willing. What was he afraid of?   
 ****

She slowly stood up, mindful of her hand and limped towards the door. Perhaps fighting with Kaydel was a bad idea. _Who knew she took up kickboxing?_ When she got to the living room, she found him asleep in a worn down recliner. A relic of his father’s he had told her. His mouth hung open with a little drool trickling out. He snored softly. 

“You were the hardest one to find,” she said softly as she approached his sleeping side, “Francisco was just happenstance, Clyde was a hired hand, Toby hired me, Adam just walked into my shop and you... I had to go searching for like Kylo...” She felt the sorrow slowly sink in, “You must think I’m a vile being to not want to have me. I’m not the lady I used to be... all these years of living... too many years... has harden my soul... has made more callous on the world...” she brushed some hair from his face as he shifted his sleep, “at least I can always look forward to seeing you.” Rey kissed Ben’s cheek as he slowly began to wake. 

“Good morning,” she whispered, “mon chéri.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just like I added a new chapter. Wow... I have nothing better to do with my life. I'm glad people are enjoying this fic and I hope you all like the direction I'm taking it. Soon enough our couple will get the happy ending they deserve, I promise. Thanks again for reading. Leave comments and kudos. Let me know how you're enjoying this. Okay bye.


	19. New Orleans

**New Orleans 1868**

She looked over the estate she had inherited. An antebellum style mansion with large farm land that sat near the bayou. Admiral Ackbar had no children of his own. All family he had he lost prior to or during the war. Towards the end of his life, he found peace with help that he had. She was an adoring the young nurse that changed his bandages, made his bed, told him stories and helped him walk. He felt she could be one of his own, she would have been the perfect daughter. Bright, cheerful and determined in everything she did with a tenacity for life. So without her knowing, he left her his fortune, home, and land. She would never have to want again. She was shocked when she was called to the lawyer’s office after his passing. She turned nearly pale when they read how much she was getting. Such a generous offer for a man she only knew for 6 months.   
 ****

When she arrived at the mansion, she was speechless. The willows hang low to greet her as she walked down the lane. The smell of marsh filled the air. When she walked up the porch, she was greeted by an older lady with fine blonde hair and a pleasant smile.  
 ****

“You must be Viola Eade,” the lady said as she curtsey, “The admiral wrote about you while he spent his last days in Lafayette. A true French woman like myself.”

“So you are Amilyn Holdo?” she asked and the lady nodded.

“Care taker,” she looked at the home behind her, “Although it hasn’t been the same since the war. He was never a cruel master. If his salves left, they just left. He never believe that people should be branded like cattle. As long as they had a roof over their head and food in the belly, he felt that a man could see the value in his work if he is treated like a man… Though, I don’t blame them for leaving.”

Viola took in the woman who stood in front of her. Her somber look meant that she had seen many things, perhaps even witness some horror, but she still persevered. She could admire this woman’s strength. She need someone strong in her life now. She felt that she had lost so much. Changing her identity when she came to the states, that need someone that she can rely on and who knows? Maybe help building this estate back to its form glory is just what she needs.

“All right, Miss Holdo,” Viola said as she removed her bonnet, allowing her chestnut hair to flow, “Where do we begin?”

“Please, call me Amilyn, miss.”

“Then you shall call me Viola,” she replied with a smile and entered into her new home.

**Lisbon 1635**   
****

Francisco wanted to memorize Kira as she slept. Every strand of hair, every freckle, every lash, every breath he want to lock it away. She was no longer safe in Lisbon and trying to send her back to Spain was out of the question seeing that she came back to him a year later. They could make the trip to Italy. He could book them a private carriage, transfer to a province and perhaps take her as his wife. A secret between the two of them. She would make a lovely bride. Her hair filled with wild flowers. _Kira_ _Garupe._ It seemed to have a nice ring to it.  
 ****

_That’s just a fantasy… She deserves better than what a priest can provide…_

He traced her spine as she slowly stirred in her sleep.

“Father…” she sighed with a lazy smile, “Did you want more?”

He blushed as she revealed her breast, taking his hand and leading it towards her lower half. He couldn’t get over how drawn he was to her. She was so bewitching… so loving… so sweet… so warm… _so tight…_ She kissed his neck as he stroked her folds.

“You’re so hot,” she murmured, nipping lightly on his skin, “Always to gentle.”

“You deserve the best,” he groaned as he felt her fingers trance his rib cage.

“Hmm… you flatter me, Father,” she gave him a knowing smirk before softly moaning when he dipped his finger inside her core, “Oh ... magnifique… Tout est magnifique…”

He captured her mouth as he slowly fingered her. He wanted to remember everything. Every breath, every hitch, every kiss, he was going to lock it away, so when he died, he could remember these moments when he was truly, blissfuly happy.

**Miami 1946**

Nothing happened. Just when Toby was going to fuck his kids’ nanny, Zelda disturbed them with noisy sobs. He tried to convince her not to go, but she promised to return. He waited in Mary’s room as she went to check on his daughter. Soon, the sun broke through the blinds as he woke with a groan. _So close… he was so close…_ He put on his pajamas and slowly left the room to check on his wife. He found the master suite door unlocked. When he enter the room, he found it empty. Her bags were gone and the room baron of her existence. He found a note on the dresser told him that she had taken an early flight back to LA and that she would see them when they got back. She needed to be alone and didn’t want to be a burden.   
 ****

_Have fun with the kids. Enjoy the beach. I’ll see you all very soon._

_XOXO- Rosanna._

He crumpled the note and tossed it into the bin. Of course she would do this. Anytime they went anywhere, always left, despite it being her idea. He trudged over to the shower to wash away the grime, lust and anger he felt. He fisted his cock, softly chanting Mary’s name to himself and watched as his spent was washed away. It was safe to say, this was going to be a damper on the rest of his vacation. 

**New Orleans 1868**

He called himself Bigwig and his wife’s name was Strawberry. They were free slaves who choose to stay on Admiral Ackback’s estate, because they grew up here. They knew no other life and they had hoped that the new master would be just as good. Viola welcomed them to her table the first night she stayed in the mansion. There was no point in them eating separate from her and Amilyn. She even offered them the master bedroom for them to sleep in.  
 ****

“Misses, we shouldn’t,” he protested, “Masters sleeps there for reasons.”

“At least take the cook’s quarters,” Viola said as she sipped on her wine, “It’s the least I can do. There is no need for two to sleep in such confined space.”

“But we likes our cabin, Misses,” Strawberry added as she took her husband’s hand, “You may not understand, but to us it is a home. A true home.”

Viola looked between the pair. They had so little and yet were happy with that. Then she thought about her house. It was such a large house to have just two women live in it and the land itself was large. Amilyn had mentioned it use to be a fully function farm with livestock. Since the war, it had only one cow, a few chickens, a couple of goats, and the most they grew was what they needed to eat. There was so much work that needed to be done. 

“Amilyn,” she addressed her help, “when you into town, see if you can find some hard working hands looking for a job. We can offer them food and shelter for now. We perhaps discuss a small salary, but for now, just those that will work for a bare minimum.”

“Are you sure, Viola? You’re such a young woman. To have men live in the house with you and I, can’t say that it would be right. It’s not proper.”

“We have guns. If any of them try anything, shoot them.”

**Miami 1946**

The ice cream parlor was pleasant. The music was soft and the atmosphere bright. Toby’s kids hardly noticed their mother wasn’t there. He entertained them as they recounted their day at the beach. He even joined them in the water, tossing his daughter in the air, splashing with Emerson and racing Mary back to the towels with both on his kids on his back. It was a wonderful time. The clinked their spoons together as they partakes in their sundaes. Zelda chimed in about how Mary is the best swimmer in the world.   
 ****

“No one is better than Mary,” she said.

“I’m sure I could teach her a thing or two,” Toby smirked, winking at the nanny as she helped Emerson wipe his mouth. 

“I doubt that,” Mary smiled before dipping her spoon into her sundae, “I learned from the best.”

“The best you say,” Toby leaned in closer, feeling confident in his ways of seduction. He was going to fulfill what he had set to do last night.

“Yes and he had only one hand.”

 _He… she never mentioned a he…_ His confidence shrunk as he pulled back.

“He?” Toby rubbed his chin.

“How can someone swim with one hand?” Emerson asked as Zelda dripped chocolate syrup on her blue dress.

“Well, he did have a hand once,” Mary explained as she dapped the girl’s dress, “When he was boy, he grew up near a lake and would swim there every summer. Our paths just happened to cross perchance and he taught me to swim.”

Toby’s brow furrowed. Something in the sentence seemed familiar. 

_A soft summer breeze blows pass and a splash is heard in the distance. Panic ensues. Cries for help.The water is cool. DO SOMETHING! Current is almost too fast. Hurry! Gripping a small waist. Help them out! Breath life back. She can’t go… not yet… Viola, stay…_

“How old were you when you learned to swim?” Emerson asked.

“Oh… I don’t know. A bit older than you,” she answered as she ate some more of her ice cream.

“And this friend who taught you, is he still around?” Toby asked.

“No, he passed many years ago, but sometimes I feel like I see him… Just in the shape of a different person.”

**Lisbon 1635**

The ship would be leaving in an hour. The sooner they were there the better. Sebastiao waited outside as Francisco went to collect Kira. Her eyes were red and puffy as he packed a small bag for her.  
 ****

“Please don’t make me do this,” she begged.

“There are some oranges, cheese, and bread,” he replied, “Your sketch book is here as well as some good pencils.”

“I can face him. I’ve chased him away before, I’m sure I can do it again.”

“The ship will give you safe passage to the new world, there you can start a new,” he held the bag and she just stared back at him, “Don’t make this any harder, my sweet.”

“Then let’s figure out another way. Come with me and in the new world, we can start a new. Where you are not a priest and we can be together. God will forgive you if you choose another life,” she sniffled, “I can’t live without you.”

“But you must,” Francisco said coming closer to her, “You are still young and full of life. You can still go on. My purpose, my life is with God.”

“Please… don’t do this…” her lip tremble as the tears rolled down her cheeks, “Je t'en prie, non. Je ferais tout.”

Francisco was silent as his heart broke.

“Please…”

Sebastiao walked in letting them know it was time. Grabbing her cloak, he tucked her hair away. He kissed her forehead before them embarked. The dock creaked under them as Francisco talked the crew members. He paid them handsomely and was assured that no harm would come to her. She would go below with the other women who were seeking refuge in the new world from horrible husbands and terrible situations. They would ship off in fifteen minutes, giving the lovers a final goodbye. She hugged Sebastiao, asked him to say a brief prayer for her and he replied that he would pray for her every night. When she turned to Francisco, he was met with such anger, resentment, and sorrow that he had seen in those hazel eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

“Then don’t make me go.”

“You must.”

“Why? Because some craze man thinks I’m his wife,” she spat at the ground, “I want nothing to do with him. I want you.”

“And that’s why you must go.”

“Why?!” Kira snapped, glaring at the priest.

“Because this is not how it ends,” he answered, “If everything you’ve confined in me is true, then this is not the end for us. You said I resembled someone you knew once. In look, in height, in voice I am him. Then perhaps in this new journey, I will be there, free to be yours. And I pray to God He gives me that chance, my love.” He cupped her face, “I want a better life for us. And the only way we can do that is by making sure you’re safe,” he leaned in close, his lips brushing against hers, “Je reviendrai pour toi, chérie.”

He sealed that promise with a kiss. 

**New Orleans 1868**

“Logan,” Viola repeated as she brought in the fresh, dug up carrots and potatoes.   
 ****

“Yes, James and Clyde,” Amilyn said as she followed her mistress into the kitchen, “Two Union soldiers looking for work and were only ones desperate enough to take your deal.”

Viola wiped her brow and hands before pumping water into the sink. 

“Will they be joining us for supper?”

“I did extend an invitation and the elder of the two was most gracious to accept for both of them. However, I must warn you, the younger one is missing a hand. Don’t know how much help he’ll be.”

“If he is willing to work, I'm sure he won’t let that slow him down,” the young woman smirked as she started washing her vegetables, “I’m sure they’ll be fine with some rabbit stew and bread, right?”

“I’ll send for, Strawberry, Miss.”

The table was set as Viola lit the candles. She looked over the setting and was found with a sense of peace. She had been running for so long that perhaps now she can finally be at peace. _No more sleepless nights. No more crying over something that is not there._ She finally had a home with a small family she could call her own. 

Bigwig had asked if him and his wife should serve for their guests.

“If you like,” she answered, “but you are to always sit at my table.” She took his callous hand and smiled.

“Thank ya, Misses Viola. It truly is an honor to help you,” the black man said.

Soon they heard voices from the foyer. Amilyn had greeted their guest and was to entertain them in the den till supper was ready. Voila straighten her skirt before taking a deep breath and leaving to meet the new hired hands. She wore her best dress that she had, a soft blue with white trimmings on the end. Her hair in a low bun and she wore a cross that was given to her long ago. When she entered the room, her smile slowly wavered, a knot developed in her stomach, and she felt a sweat form on her brow.

“This Viola Eade,” Amilyn introduced her as the brothers stood, “This is James and Clyde Logan, the Union soldiers from West Virginia.”

“Jimmy, ma’am,” spoke the first man. His hair was shorter with a well trimmed beard. He was well built, a man who possibly work all day without breaking a sweat, but the limp was questionable. However it was the other brother that gave her great concern as he towered over everyone. Wide built with long hair at his shoulders and an unkept goatee. His face seems to hold a permanent pout as his brown eyes held hers. Viola felt her knees buckle as she fainted to the floor. The whole world went dark as voices seemed to scramble, but in the faint distance, she could have sworn she heard a cackle as if the devil’s wife seemed to enjoy her torment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look! It's Clyde. My favorite character next to Kylo that Adam has ever played. Hooray! I'm exhausted, but I'm glad you all are still enjoying this. I want to thank Luciefee and Jess444 for being my biggest fans. I love reading your comments so much. Welcome to everyone who is discovering this fic for the first time. Your comments and kudos mean the world to me so much. Almost at 300 kudos and 5555 hits! Okay... I need to sleep. Bye.


	20. Armitage Hux and Caleb Gleeson

**Paris 1564**

Armitage Hux considered himself a very refine man. True he had to lie and sneak his way into the king’s graces, but he saw himself as a very worldly man. He was the son of a whore and a baron and he never forgot that. His father would remind him on how lucky he was to be alive, that he should kiss the ground his father walked on because he could have thrown in a river if it was not for the fact that he needed an heir. So Armitage followed through with his father’s plan at 18 and threw his unconscious body into that river he talked about, made off with his fortune to start anew.   
****

When he met the king, he had made his intentions very clear. He was intrigued by his wit and looks that Armitage willingly gave himself to this man with so much power. By giving him everything, Poe gave him titles, lands, servants, the world if he could, and Armitage was an equal to him. Then came talk of war, other kingdoms wanting to take what they want, it was unsettling and although the young king was ready for the fight, it would be unwise to leave the kingdom with no heir to claim it. So the lord went to their revival nations with a sense of peace. Offer an olive branch to them in the form of rich trades in order to join the nations in some way. Though princesses were already promised to others, he was sure the king would settle for a duchess. All he needed was someone young and fair with enough wit to hold a room, then he could mold her into his liking. He traveled far and wide, over land and sea looking for the right one. With the right queen, he could have his cake and eat it too.

“My daughter, Kira Leclair,” the French lord introduced the young beauty to the red headed Irish man, “This is Lord Hux of the British court.”

“Britain? What do the English want with us?” she asked with a snide remark. Hux was intrigued by this presence she had. She came only to his shoulder with long auburn hair and vibrant hazel eyes, showing clear disinterest in him, but he’ll change that.

“The king needs a queen,” Armitage said as he walked around her, eyeing her the entire time, judging her almost, “With a queen, he can combine powers of two nations, unifying and leading as an example to other nation. With a queen, there can be heirs that can lead these powers into a new era that will go down in history. With a queen, a woman would have her share of power as her husband.”

That seemed to catch her attention.

“Shared power? Is that even possible?”

“Oh it is possible,” he smirked, offering his arm, “Please, allow me to explain with your chaperone.”

**London 2019**

Caleb checked his watch as Nathan waited nervously.  
****

“She’s not going to show,” his campion said.

“She’ll show,” the ginger man answered as he sipped his water. The waited in the booth as others chattered around them. The bell ringed to signaled waitresses that food was ready. There was laughter, music and an overall pleasant atmosphere. It didn’t settle Nathan as he fidgeted with his phone and looked around the diner.

“She’s not coming,” he repeated.

“She’ll be here,” Caleb reassured, taking Nathan’s hand, “Relax. Have some faith.”

“How do you know?”

On cue, there was a ring from the door in the front. He saw her talking to the hostess at the podium. _Like clockwork._ She lead over to the table as he released Nathan’s hand. The last thing he needed was giving her the wrong idea. 

“Okay, I’m here,” Rey sighed as she crossed her arms, “What do you want?”

“Kira,” Nathan said softly, but she didn’t acknowledge him.

“What did you tell him?” she asked Caleb.

“I told you,” he nodded towards the man across from him, “He knows everything.”

He enjoyed watching her left eye twitch as she slowly took a seat next to his colleague.

“Everything?” Caleb nodded.

“He believed that he was a descendant of someone great, so explaining to him that he was the reincarnation of Poe Dameron came about, he drank every word.”

“Why?” she asked Nathan.

“Something just awoke inside me,” he explained, “I suddenly understood everything. It all became clear, so Caleb helped me quit my job in accounting and pursue this life of art. Never had I felt more sure of myself. And then, seeing you,” he took her hand, “It was like falling in love all over again. Kira, I want to make it right by you. I want to give you the life you deserved. Marry me.”

A bell rang to alert that the next order was ready, there was a baby crying in the background and in front of Rey was an open black, velvet box with a diamond ring it. She looked back at Nathan with a cocked eyebrow, before laughing in his face.

“Is that what he told you? That you could make this all better just by marrying me?” Her laugh rang over most of the conversation as she slammed her hand on the table, “You’ve truly lost it haven’t you.”

“Well look at yourself,” Caleb snapped back, “Chasing after that man like a stray cat in heat. I’ve seen the way he looks at you and frankly, you would do much better if you just cut your loses.”

“How dare you? Do you know what it’s like for me? 500 years in this body! So many name changes, so many new lives, I can hardly think straight anymore,” she fought back as a waitress brought her a glass of water. Nathan’s face went white as he looked between the two of them.

“Everything okay here, loves?” the woman asked.

“We’re still looking over the menu,” he answered with a smirk. She was cracking. _Good._

**Bamberg 1590**

Armitage found her in Germany weeping at the grave that they buried her lover at. She hadn’t changed at all. Still as vibrant and beautiful from the time he had met her in the French courts. He had approached with caution afraid that she would run. So he waited till she fell asleep near the tombstone, before he swooped in, taking her to the inn he was staying at. He tied her to a chair and waited till she woke. When she stirred, she woke in a panic.  
****

“It’s best not to strain yourself,” the young lord said as he twirled the dagger in his hand.

“Connard,” Kira growled, “you’re no dead!”

“Neither are you,” he smirked approached, pointed the dagger at her neck, “but I could help you with that. End your suffering so you and your lover can finally be together. You would probably think differently of me then. Although,” he pulled back the sleeve around her arm to reveal a long white scar, “it seems you’ve tried.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she trembled, but she held her glare.

“We were happy in Paris,” she whispered, “You could have let us go. Poe was willing to let us go. Write it off as exiled.”

“And the coward threw himself from the highest tower,” he snarked as he tossed the dagger on the table, “Guilt, ha.”

“You never loved him,” she growled, “He would have given you the world.”

“And you would have stopped him,” Armitage lit his pipe, “I should have known you were too clever for your own good. So, tell me, when you came back was it sudden or did you escape from the abbey?”

Kira spat at his feet and the Irish man chuckled before slapping her across the face.

“Do it again,” she laughed, “Please, remain me of this torment!”

He did, back handing her with his ring as blood spilt to the floor.

“Bastard!” Slap.

“Pig!” Slap.

“Salop!” Slap

The tears final start to fall as Armitage looked upon her bruised face. Blood and drool leaked from her mouth as snot mixed in with her tears. Her auburn hair wild as she whimpered softly.

“You ruined everything,” she said darkly.

“Yet, I’m the only one who knows who you are,” Armitage sneered as he pulled her by her scalp, making her meet his gaze, “So I think it’s best you start listening to me.”

**Lisbon 1634**

He had made her his wife. Willing or not, she was to give herself to him as he had once done to the king. For 100 years, he smirked as she laid motionless. She fought in the beginning, but now her eyes were cold and her body acted on its own. They had no children which made it so much better. Night after night he pleasure himself to how broken she was. _Pure perfection. To torment her so was a delight he never knew._ However moving to Lisbon was probably the worst mistake he could have made. One night after a meal, Kira had slipped Armitage a sleep potion, knocking unconscious to plan her escape. She had hidden herself in the sea port very well as he searched for. Nearly coming off as a crazed man as he searched for her, then he ran into a man, knocking him to the ground.  
****

“Are you all right, my child?” the man asked and Armitage was ready throw his word back in his face until he saw the man’s face. He turned ghostly white and shook with fear. He was staring face-to-face with the artist. Though his face more narrow and his built more slimmer, there was no denying it was him.

“No… that’s impossible… you’re dead…”

“Not dead, sir, but you look pale,” the young priest said, “Please, come. We have medics at the monastery who can look you over.”

“Get your hands off of me,” he snapped before standing on his own, he fixed his hair as another priest joined them.

“Father Garupe, everything all right?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Is everything all right sir?”

“No everything is not all right,” he huffed, straightening his shirt, “I’ve seemed to have lost my wife. About yay tall with long auburn locks. If you’ve seen her…” he saw Father Garupe’s widen, “please… tell her her husband misses her…”

“Oh, we’ve seen a woman,” the other priest said, “My friend here saved her from throwing herself into the sea.”

“Did he?” Armitage smirked.

“She’s still healing from the spill,” Father Garupe answered quite fast, “Perhaps come collect her another day.”

“Yes, I look forward to seeing her tomorrow.”

**London 2019**

Caleb stared out the window of his apartment. London had changed so much from when he first came. Buildings towered over head as the world around just seemed busier. Pathetic. He sipped his coffee before turning away and towards his mantel. He turned a hidden knob, opening the fireplace to a secret compartment. There is where he kept all of his treasures. Old document, clips of obituaries, photos, books, and, of course, a portrait. Complexation still flawless. The paint still looked brand new. The blues, the reds, the golds, every freckle, hair and flower still in its place.  
****

_Meine Mohnblume_ was written delicately in the right hand corner.

 Caleb pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

“Ah, yes, for Miss Phasma please,” he masked his voice, “My name is Armitage Hux and I have a painting I would like to drop off for that Kylo Ren project… Well, actually Caleb will be the one  bringing it in, but I feel… it will help you all out so much… The piece? It’s her majesty’s Kira Leclair Dameron’s portrait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's have a chapter about our villain. Or one of our villains. Sometimes a good villain chapter is just what you need. Thank you all for all the support. Welcome first timers to the angst train that is this fic. I'm so sorry to put you guys through this, but there will be a happy ending. Have a good night though. See ya next time.


	21. Soon We'll Be Together

**Hollywood 1946**

Toby watched as Mary started picking up the kids’ playroom. They had just been put down for a nap and Rosanna was away having lunch with some friends, giving them anywhere between 45 minutes to an hour to do whatever they could. It had been hard for him to contain himself since Miami, but all he could think about was her perfectly tight body and her desperately went cunt. He snuck and locked the door behind him before approaching her from behind. She was wearing a cute blue polkadot number with that white apron she always had. He pressed himself against her and began kissing her neck.  
****

“Toby, please,” she giggled, “We can’t.”

“The kids are sound asleep on the other side of the hall,” he murmured in her ear, “And Rosanna won’t be back till much, much later. And you,” he hands roamed towards her waist, pressing her pert ass against his hard crotch, making her breath hitch, “need to not be so seductive.”

“Toby,” she sigh, “Je ne peux pas.”

“Mary,” he answered, “I want you. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than you. I would throw away everything just to have a taste of you.”

He eased over to one of plush stools his children use to lay across as they read their book, making her sit on it before kneeling in front of her. He leaned in to kiss her, but she stopped him.

“Your wife will be cross with us if she ever found out,” she said, with a look of concern, “and I don’t think it would be wise for your children to think their father did something like this.”

“When their older, they’ll understand,” he said as he removed her shoes, feeling the nylon stockings on her legs as he rubbed her leg, “They’ll remember how miserable their father was towards the end of his marriage with their mother that they’ll forgive him for going astray.” He kissed her ankle as she shivered when his eyes met hers. He kissed the length of her right leg, cupping her calf, she giggled when his mustache brushed against her inner thigh as he slowly pushed up her skirt. 

“You’re skin is so soft,” he whispered as he eased her legs apart, taking his large hands and grabbing her knees, pulling her till she was spread at his hip and he could see the delicate lace of her underwear. She gasped at his strength and he softly chuckled as he brushed his lips against her, pulling back when she tried to kiss him. 

“Please don’t toy with me,” she said harshly. 

“Never,” he whispered, “I just want to throw you over the edge, till all you can think about is me.”

“That’s all I ever do,” Mary sighed as he kissed the length of her neck, finding that the dress she wore opened in the front. Undoing the buttons, it fell open to reveal her breasts. He smirked.

“No bra today,” he tutted, “Mrs Ricci would have looked that.”

“I was employed by Mrs. Ricci,” Mary gasped as he licked at her nipple before tugging on it softly, “Un homme méchant. Je vais crier si vous faites ça...”

He tugged again as watch her eyes close and bit down on her bottom lip. The color on her cheeks was amazing and her soft whimpers were music to his ears, but it wasn’t enough as he felt his own cock straining in his pants. He went to tease her other nipple as his hand slipped into her panties to find of sopping, wet core. When he brushed her clit, she released a moan before cupping her mouth. 

“No,” he growled, “I want to hear you.”

“But your children...”

“Are practically in another time zone,” Toby answered as he pulled the lace underwear off and tossing it behind him. There it was again. Still breathtaking as ever, quivering for him to do anything. So he placed his mouth over her lovely private and enjoyed her scream. He hummed as he licked the length of her slit, watching her toss her head back as she muttered his praises.

“Oh... Monsieur... c'est trop... yes... ah... Toby.”

He loved how she said his name. When he blew little on her clit was when she truly went wild. Throwing caution to the wind, her whimpers, moans and filthy words filled the room that was meant for innocence. 

“Oh... my cunt... oh please... I’m going to come... Je vais venir... ah.” Mary’s thighs shook as she trickled her spent down his chin and onto the plush stool. He too came, ruining his tailored pants, but he couldn’t careless. This was the most erotic thing he had ever done. His wife would have never allowed him to make her come just with his mouth and here he was, on his knees in front of a beautiful woman. Her perfect wavy hair was now a mess, her eyes blinded with lust, her cheeks were a flawless rouge and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. 

Toby helped her right herself in his bedroom as he changed underwear and pants. He’d tell his wife he spilled something on the beige part. As Mary sat at his wife’s vanity, fixing her lipstick, he couldn’t help but be filled with a sense of home. As if this was right. _She would be readying herself for a premier as their kids would chase each other into their room. She’d laugh and kiss them both before sending them back to their room. He would be waiting in a tux as she displayed herself in a shimmer blue number. Sexy, smart, and sweet, the perfect wife._

A click at the front door alerted them and Mary’s face went white. 

“Shh...” Toby hushed her, “I’ll distract her. Use the back stairway to the kitchen and start preparing dinner, okay.”

**New Orleans 1868**

Viola woke to Strawberry dabbing her forehead with a wet cloth. She groaned in pain.   
****

“My head,” she said hoarsely, “What happened?”

“You had a spell, Misses, on account you didn’t eats anything since lunch,” her handmaiden put plainly, “Thems Logan boys sure had a nice scare, but the big one carried ya to your room as Misses Holdo tucked you in. They is nice boys though. Tries Bigwig like a man instead of someone’s property.”

“The Logan men are here?”

“Sure is. Misses Holdo gots them working out in the fields to gets ready for the harvest. Jimmy loves getting his hands dirty and can work fast despite his limp. And Clyde is stronger than any working horse I’ve seen.”

Viola groaned as she rubbed her temples. This was too much. The reason for her fainting spell was because she had seen a ghost from her past. Perhaps she had misjudged. Maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her. 

“Strawberry, call for Miss Holdo,” she said, “I need to speak with her.”

Viola slowly got up from her bed once her handmaiden left. She went to the window to look out at her land. The field had been plowed and watered. Bigwig had taken to working the land, pulling weeds like he had done all his life. She spotted the eldest Logan near the barn, feeding the pig she had purchased a week ago before moving on to the chickens. Then she saw him. His shirt hung loose as it was drenched in sweat. With ease he picked up the axe and slip the log with it. She could see the muscles in his shoulders flex through as continued this motion. To be so skilled with one hand was very impressive. The men took a break when Strawberry came out with hot plates and water. Each one of them thanking her as they tucked in. 

“I see you’re doing well, Viola,” Amilyn noted, “Good to see you out of bed.”

“What do you make of these Logan men?” she asked not looking away from the window. Amilyn looked out the window with her and smiled. 

“They’re good people,” she said softly with a smile, “Hard working men who ask for nothing more than a hot meal and a soft bed. Jimmy is a natural with the animals. I’ve seen him talk to the heifer we have. Clyde is more silent, but has a good heart. He taught Bigwig how to fire a rifle.”

Viola’s eyes fell on Clyde as his jaw worked the chicken he was eating. It was the same way Kylo used to eat, only messier. He sat like Francisco, only with a deeper slouch. _Francisco was just by chance. This is just insanity._ When he turned his head toward her window, she ducted away. 

“Viola, what is the matter with you? Why are you so squirrelly?” Amilyn asked with concern. 

“I don’t want them working here,” she said point blank, “Find someone else and send them away.”

**Hollywood 1946**

Toby carries Rosanna up the stairs to their bed as she muttered softly to herself. She had too much to drink again and proceeded to call one of the executives’ wives “a raging bitch who doesn’t know how to get her husband off.” Rumors had been swirling around for quite sometime that perhaps Rosanna’s lunch meetings weren’t just for lunch. She was a woman of Hollywood who became a mother too soon. Now she was grasping at straws for any kind of relevancy. This executive wife proceeded to speak ill of Rosanna after she had caught her legs wrapped around her husband’s waist. Jokes on her though, she was going to be in the next Hitchcock film. Whether it was a leading role or not, Toby wouldn’t be able to tell you. Still he helped her out of her shoes and dress and tucked her into bed.   
****

“Stupid bitch,” Rosanna murmured as she curled into her pillows, “Fat cow...”

He kissed her forehead before ridding himself of his waistcoat and tie. He snuck away with ease to the guesthouse where Mary would be waiting for him. He knock three times before being let in. She was a vision in her simple blue slip, her hair in soft waves as the glow of the candlelight reflected in her eyes. 

“Hi,” he said softly. 

“Hello,” she answered stepping back so he could come in. Once the door was soundly locked, Toby swept the nanny into his arms and kissed her fully on the lips. 

“God, I missed you,” he sighed. 

“You saw me before you left,” she giggled as he kissed her again. 

“Yes, and I see you at breakfast, when I’m home from set, when you play with my kids, and when I close my eyes and dream for you,” he cupped her cheek, “but I still miss you, Mary.”

She leaned into his touch, turning her head and kissing his palm before replying, “I missed you too.”

He gave her a lopsided grin as he kissed her again. 

“Are you ready for tonight?” he asked as he kissed his jawline, lightly nipping at her ear. 

“More than you know it,” she sighed, allowing to carrying her like a blushing bride through the threshold to the awaiting bed. He laid her down gently, kissing her softly, her finger grazing the hair at the nape of his neck. He pulled back to remove his shirt but she stopped him. 

“Please, allow me,” she said and began unbuttoning his shirt. He waited on bated breath as the material fell from his shoulders to the floor. She stared in awe of his chest, free of any scars or blemishes, except for the few moles and freckles he had. 

“Presque comme je me suis souvenu,” she whispered as her finger grazed along his shoulders, chest and stomach, “Étonnant… Tu es beau…magnifique…”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” he chuckled, feeling slightly nervous that perhaps she wasn’t as impressed with him. Maybe he should have skipped dessert. 

“You’re still as handsome as ever,” she reassured him as she unbuckled his pants. Her hand steeped into his trousers and pulled his member out. It was hard, red, and veiny and she seemed very pleased with it. When he stepped out of his pants and briefs, Mary disposed of her slip, baring herself to him once more.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, joining her on her bed as she replied with a soft giggle.

“I’m no one,” Mary answered as he wedged himself between her legs.

“Not to me,” he said softly as if it was a prayer, “Never to me.”

**New Orleans 1868**

Viola watched the Logan men shared a laugh with Bigwig and Strawberry as they came closer to the house. Amilyn could not deliver on finding different help. No one would work for just a meal and a bed, let alone for a woman, so she had to deal with this. This ghost who slept in her house, ate her food, and stared at her with great interest. He never said anything to her, his brother did all of the talking for both of them, coming up with new ideas on how to drum up revenue. Bigwig would chime in every other sentence, sometimes repeating what Jimmy said with more gusto. Clyde simply ate his meal and eyed Viola every chance he had, but she would not look at him. She didn’t even acknowledge him. It would be too much to hear his voice because she feared what it might trigger.   
****

“Hence why goat cheese would be our best option,” Jimmy finished and Bigwig slapped his back.

“I like you, Mr. Logan,” he smiled.

“Big,” Clyde finally spoke with a booming presence, “You don’t have to call us mister. We’re hands like you. Jimmy and Clyde are fine.”

“Right,” he nodded with enthusiasm before turning toward Viola, “They is good people, Misses Viola. This one here lost his hand from a canon and his was an injured from a bullet. Can you imagine?”

“I try not to think of war,” she said politely, dabbing her mouth, “Nothing good ever comes from it.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jimmy said, “because of this, Bigwig and his wife are free people.”

“People shouldn’t even be consIdered as property, Mr. Logan,” she remarked before reaching for her brandy.

“No, but sometimes men are too thick to see that,” Clyde commented coldly, “So they get lesser men to fight their battles for them while they discuss what should be done. Then they thank you for your service, but don’t even bother to help figure out how you’ll live again.”

She looked at him for the first time and she all the horrors he had faced. He looked much older than what he let on. A somber feeling fell over the dinner room as tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. _Mon amour... Que t'ont-ils fait?_ She excused herself and went to the kitchen to clean. She tried to hide her sniffling, but the tears became too much that she bit on a rag just to keep herself from screaming. 

“Are you all right, Miss Eade?” asked Clyde, who came in with his plate and glass. 

“Oh,” she wiped her face and tried to fix her hair, “I was just thinking of the admiral, what he might have seen, but I’ll be fine.”

She took his plate for him and her eyes drifted to the missing hand. 

“Sometimes I think it’s still there,” he said, breaking her stare and making her meet his soft brown eyes, “I feel like I can still feel my fingers and use it, but I have to remind myself it’s not there.”

“Does it... hurt?” Viola placed the dish in the sink and went to roll up his sleeve as if she were a nurse again but he stopped her, taking her hand in his. 

“I can understand not wanting me here, Miss Eade,” Clyde said as his thumb ran over her knuckles, “but don’t send my brother away. He has a daughter back in Charlotte that he is desperate to see. I know the limp slows him down, but he’s good.”

“It’s not that you’re not good workers,” she said, never breaking eye contact as she was drawn to those eyes once more, “It just...”

“It what?” the soldier asked. There was a loud clatter of dishes that broke them apart. 

“Oh... was I interrupting something?” Jimmy teased as Bigwig followed with more dishes and leftovers. 

“No,” Viola answered, “Tell Strawberry to feed the scraps to the dogs.”

“Misses,” Bigwig stopped her as she tried to leave the kitchen, “Did Clyde do something? You says the word and I’ll run him off.”

“No, Bigwig,” she answered softly as her heart raced, “He did nothing at all.”

**Hastings 1569**

Kira woke to soft kisses along her neck as she was pulled flush against a large body. 

“Kylo,” she sighed as he felt he hand drifted under the sheets, “we don’t have time for that.”

“The ship leaves at nightfall, mon coquelicot,” the artist answered with a deep growl, “Time is all we have.”

He position her just so, keeping her on her side with her leg propped against his thigh as he sunk into her. Despite her protest, she would say no to the lazy thrusts as he whispered in her ear.

“Soon we’ll be free of this country and it’ll be just us,” Kylo said as he lightly pawed at her breast, “I have a cottage waiting for us in the outskirts of Paris. Thanks to your husband, we have plenty of money for a new life.”

Kira keened as his hand dipped towards her sex and began stroking her bud.

“Then, you’ll be fat with my child. So large and heavy that I’ll have to help you bath and it’ll be such a spacious tub,” he groaned, “We’ll have so many children on our farm. Enough for an army, boys and girls, each as beautiful as their mother.”

“And father,” she moaned, turning her head to kiss him, reaching behind his head for more support, “Mon diable… Plus fort… Je ne suis pas fragile…”

Kylo grunted softly in her ear, turning her over to her stomach as his hips were driven with more purpose. Kira whimpered under him as she clawed at the bed under her. Soon she would be starting a new life. Soon they would be free. Soon they would be together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! I wrote another chapter after just publishing another one! What is this madness?! I have nothing better to do with my time. Thank you for the support. Almost 5555 hits and nearly 300 kudos. I appreciate all comments. I read all of them and try to respond to as many as I can. Thanks again. Enjoy the smut...


	22. Unknown

**Unknown 1570**

Kira gasped for air as she was greeted by a pair of yellow, bewitching eyes.   
****

“Relax,” spoke a voice, echoing around her, “it’s very important that you relax.”

“Where am I? Where’s my baby? Where is Kylo?” she asked looking around the room she was in. It was dark and drifty. She was chained to a table with just a shift on. The only thing she could see were the eyes. 

“Relax and all will come to you,” the voice purred in her ear, “you should be grateful, your majesty, for I have bestowed a gift to you.”

“What gift?” Kira struggled against the cuffs, burning into her skin. 

“Resurrection,” it hummed, buzzing around her head, “A second chance to truly fulfill your life.”

“I don’t understand… Tell me where am I… I know the king…”

“Ah… yes… He won’t be around much longer,” the voice said almost with a hint of a smile, “I see his mind… riddled with guilt… the poor thing… but to let him go would be cowardice… no… Kylo Ren must suffer…”

“He didn’t do anything wrong! It was all me! Punish me! Let him go! I’ll go in his place,” Kira cried as she continued to struggled against her binds.

“Hush… soon you will see… soon you will know your purpose…”

**New Orleans 1868**

“Kylo!” Viola woke in a cold sweat. She hated those dreams, the ones that reminded her of her torment.  
****

“Kira,” she heard in the back of her.

“You’re not here anymore,” she muttered, “I’ve long left behind that place and those demons… They can’t harm me… He can’t harm me…”

With a few deep breaths, she had to remind herself of who she was. Not a French girl anymore, she had lived so many lives since then that that part of her had long died. She was so much more. She was stronger, fearless, and a survivor. Looking at her clock, she realized that most of the night had been gone and it was best to start her day. At least if she had breakfast ready, that would be a good distraction. She dressed herself, braided her hair before twisting it into a bun. She walked down the stairs with ease, grabbing a pail to milk her cow. The old brown heifer mooed as if greeting her master.

“Hello there, sweet thing,” she whispered, patted the beast side before taking her stool to milk her. She hummed softly to herself as squirted milk into the pail. Her mind sometimes liked to wonder in its time of loneliness, to a happier time, when she lived in Paris. Kylo would dote on her hand and foot like he was a trained servant. He massages her swollen feet and feed her fine cheeses and meats. He whispered towards her belly of the things they would do once the baby was born. She was never cold or hungry, she didn’t want for anything. In the French countryside, they were happy.

“You have a lovely voice,” came a deep voice, that nearly startled her. Clyde bowed his head as he leaned against a post.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on a woman like that,” she snapped, “Tu m’as fait peur.”

“You speak French,” he chuckled softly.

“Louisiana used to a province to France,” Viola retorted, standing up from her stool, taking her pail and making her way back to her house.

“Need help, ma’am?” the one hand man asked.

“I can handle this myself.”

He followed her towards the porch as she poured the milk into a can to be placed in the icebox. She poured some out for the orange tabby to drink before collect a basket and headed to the hen house as Clyde took a seat on the porch. He watched her from afar as she collected the eggs. Once she was inside, she felt her neck heated as she felt his eyes wondering over her. When she came back to the house, the tabby had curled in his lap, purring as he stroked the puss. She eyed the happy cat on his lap and felt a tinge of jealousy. _How nice it would be curl up in lap and feel fingers stroke her hair._ He looked up at her and smiled. She blushed, shook her head and went to the kitchen. Breakfast wasn’t going to start itself. She wasn’t going to allow this man make her flustered.

**Unknown 1570 (?)**

Kira had found a sharp tool to etch into the wall of her prison. She counted nearly 100 days on the wall. The flap in the bottom of the door opened and she made a charge for it. She wedged her in the hole and tried push herself through. When she was stuck, she tried to talk to the man that was leaving her food.  
****

“Hey… tell me why I’m here. Who is in charge of this? Listen… I can pay you handsomely if you let me go… Anything you want…” a hand came down to push her back in, but she fought, “Do you know who I am? I am your queen! I could have you beheaded for this! This is treason! Let me go! Laissez-moi passer! Laissez-moi passer! Connard!”

A tray of food was pushed in with her and the latch was sealed again. She pounded on the door still throw insults at the man who was keeping her prisoner.

“You bastard! Let me go! Take me to Kylo now!”

**New Orleans 1868**

Viola couldn’t sleep. Too many horrible dreams that reminded her of her awful past kept her awake more and more. So she decided to watch the sun raise, to enjoy to beautiful pinks, oranges, and yellows streak across the sky. Her orange tabby rubbed against her leg, making her pick him up and placing him on her lap.  
****

“Good morning,” came a deep voice and she turned to find Clyde taking a seat next to her on the bench. The cat jumped for her lap into his.

“Traîtresse,” she said under her breathe before tugging her shawl closer.

“Do you always have trouble sleeping, Miss Eade?” he asked as he began petting the cat.

“No, what makes you say that?”

“Well, forgive me for intruding, but one night as I went to relieve myself, I thought I heard you pacing, mumbling something about they won’t hurt you,” he said as he turned to look at her, “Is someone after you?”

Her eyes went wide, but she composed herself and shook her head.

“Don’t be silly. Why would anyone want to harm me?”

“I have nightmares too,” he said as the cat jumped from his lap to chase a field mouse, “Sometimes I’m staring down the barrel of someone’s gun and other times it’s expositions happening all around me as I watch pieces of myself being blown away.”

Viola eyed his missing hand again as he pulled it away from her, tucking it under his other arm.

“The point is it’s okay to be afraid of something that happened in your past, Miss Eade,” Clyde said, “I just want to reassure you that you have plenty of people that care about you that won’t let anything happen to you.”

**Unknown 1575 (?)**

She had been refusing meals for days. She felt so weak. Five years she had been suffering. Five long years in this prison with a small bed and her markings. The door opened as a cloak figured entered. She paid it no mind. Her vision was blur as she saw it held something sharp in its hand. She soon felt a sharp pain in her neck and the world started to get more fuzzy. Maybe they had finally decide to let her die. Good. That’s what she wanted all a long.  
****

**New Orleans 1868**

Viola was stitching up a tear in Bigwig’s shirt when Clyde entered into the parlor. He somehow managed to carry and entire tea tray with just one hand.  
****

“What are you doing?”

“Jimmy and Bigwig are putting in the post for your land,” he said as he poured into her cup, “Miss Holdo is in town right now and Strawberry is still doing the wash, so I figured I’d help around the house for a bit.”

He placed two sugars and poured the cream before stirring it. With ease he handed her the cup and saucer and she thanked him. He had only been living with her for a month and he knew how she took her tea. A small smile formed on her face as she thanked him. He bowed his head and went to take his leave.

“Clyde,” she called after him, “please, stay a little while,” she pulled out a book of poems she had been reading, “Here. Read one for me.”

He nodded taking the book and sitting in a chair next to her. He turned to the page she had marked and began to read. His voice was rich and warm as ever. It reminded her of the Psalms Francisco used to recite or the sweet nothings Kylo would whisper to her. Clyde was not as expressive as the two men before him, but he was so gentle and kind. Her eyes drifted to the plush lips he had. Those same lips that would be the envy of some many women. She knew what those lips were capable of, what it was like to have them against hers or on her skin or on her… Viola shook her head that thought. 

_Shame on you for thinking those things. He is not Kylo, just like Francisco wasn’t… You’re just lonely… your bed is empty… if you want a man, you find a different man…_

“Yet their lives passed in gloomy woe,” but his voice warmed her bones, “And hopeless comes its dark decline,” she tried not to rub her thighs together to bring relief to her pulsing core, “And I lament because I know,” she looked away from his mouth and to his hair, his lovely dark, thick locks, “That cold departure pictures mine.”

He finished the poem, meeting her gaze as she blushed. Such intensity in those eyes as the wonder down her body. She was sure that he would throw himself at her like he had done so many times before or in his past lives, if there was such a thing. She watch his Adam’s apple bob as he handed her the book back.

“I should uh… see if Strawberry needs any help,” Clyde said and he took his leave.

Viola dug her fingers into her skirt as she watched him leave. She wanted him to stay. She should make him stay and read another prose, but instead, she let him leave.

_Lâche…_

**London 1575**

Kira woke in a plush bed surrounded in soft pillows and soft sheets. She could hear the soft crowing on rooster from out of her window. The room she was in not the prison she had been living it. She slowly got out from the bed and looked around. She could see out the window of the bustling city down below. Merchants getting ready for another day. She turned back towards the room and admired the vibrant colors of red, gold, blue and silver. It had been so long since she had seen colors and the shift she wore seem to be made of fine silk. When she opened the wardrobe, there were beautiful dresses and cloaks wait for her. The door to her room opened and a maid walked in with a tray of warm food. Actual food. Forgetting her manners, she grabbed the warm bread and bit into it, moan softly when she tasted the yeast. She scooped up the porridge in the spoon before biting into the hard boiled egg. She must be in heaven right now. There is no way she could be filling her stomach with these delicious treats if she hadn’t died. The maid placed and envelope on the table before leaving her be. How strange that the woman hardly acknowledge her… Kira looked at the envelope, eyeing it cautiously before opening it.  
****

_Enjoy your freedom. You’re welcome._

Soon followed was a printed news letter that made her gasp.

_King Dameron has gone mad. He threw himself from the highest tower today. His final decree is that Reginald Hux be his successor. Till he is of age, his father, Armitage Hux shall at as king._

She had to get out of here. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter!!!! Enjoy everyone. Thank you for the support and everything you do. All comments are appreciated. Thanks to Luciefee and Jess444 for your amazing comments. Welcome Kikyorocks, BrookieTwiling, and helloimindeleware to the angst train. I promise there will be a happy ending. Thank you all again for your support. See you next time.


	23. You're Not Done Yet

**London 2019**

Mr. Tarkin was a tall, thin man with gray hair and eyes. He favored a cane with a lion’s head as he believe a man higher than all men. His stare was cold and unsettling and watching him look between the two portraits was even more unsettling. Ben swallowed hard as their donor looked over his work before putting his glasses away.  
****

“They have very similar styles,” Mr. Tarkin said turn towards his employees and the restoration painters, “however,” he pointed to the woman in the red and gold dress, “the one of the left has clearly been painted since last week. I can’t imagine you would have looked over that small detail.”

“I…” Gwen began to talk, but Ben interrupted.

“It was my idea, sir,” he said, “Caleb and Nathan had said you would pull funding from this project if a portrait didn’t surface, so I painted the fake.”

“Clever boy,” he smirked and approached him, “Solo was it. Yes, I’ve heard so much about you and your work. Forgeries kept your family afloat, right? You’re every bit of your father, but what he lacked in guts, you truly make up in that.”

He stroked his long chin as if contemplating his next move, looking Ben up and down.

“I’ll add her to my private collection,” he said, pointing at Ben’s piece, “The funding will stay, but I would like to have you over for tea, Solo. We can discuss your future.”

He nodded at Caleb and Nathan to grab the painting before making his leave.

**New Orleans 1868**

Viola decided to paint again. She figured if she had something to occupy her hands, her mind won’t wonder to the ruggedly handsome farm hand. Though she would eye him chopping wood over her canvas, she would not allow herself to get flustered. If she was ever felt an urge to fan the flames of desire, she would take up a knew hobbit, or clean the mansion till it was spotless. If she kept her hands busy, they wouldn’t be tempted to drift down her body to relieve herself of this torment.   
****

With the summer growing warmer, the men had chosen to rid themselves of their shirts, which meant that she could see Clyde shirtless. She could see every muscle in his back and shoulders at work from when he swung his axe to when bent to pick up a new piece.

“Fine piece of work, ain’t he, Misses?” Strawberry teased as she brought some fresh lemonade.

“I don’t know what your talking about,” Viola huffed as she wiped her hands on her apron.

“I may not be bright like you, Misses, but I know love when I sees it,” her maid laughed as she poured a glass for her and herself. 

“Don’t be silly, Strawberry,” Viola snapped, taking the glass, “I hardly know the man.”

“Yet you look at him like he’s a juicy peach.”

Viola could feel her face turning red as she slammed her drunk down on the table.

“I’m going for a walk.”

**London 2019**

Ben drew on his napkin as he waited at Gwen. Mr. Tarkin had been so generous in his donation that he even moved funds for their showcase to be in the National Gallery. A private party was to take place as Caleb was to give a speech about the infamous artist. As they promised, they were going to bring him out of the darkness and shown in a new light, however there was still something very unsettling. However the large eyes and soft pout of the woman he sketched seemed to calm him down. She was the only thing that seemed to make sense out of this madness he felt. 

“Mr. Solo,” spoke a feminine voice, breaking him from his work and turn towards the young, blonde woman. 

“Miss Connix,” he said standing from his chair to greet her, “What brings you here?”

“I was just passing through and happened to see you sitting here,” she answered with a small smile. 

“Date?” he asked.

“No,” she giggled, “Just having a quiet lunch to myself. Are you waiting on someone?”

As if on cue, his phone buzzed with a message from Gwen, telling him she was unable to make it.

“I guess not,” he answered and offered the seat across from him. Their orders were taken as the two of them talked. He asked about her plans after her internship and went over options on how she could continue with a career in restoration. She asked him about his career and if he enjoyed what he did or not. They laughed and shared stories about their childhoods and schooling. Her face was nearly red from all the laughter. Needless to say, the two didn’t notice the young woman approaching their table with anger filled eyes. 

“Having a good time?” Rey asked with a slight tremble in her voice. 

“Miss Andor,” Ben said, “would you like to join us as well?”

“No thank you. I don’t like sitting next to devious sluts,” she spat as Kaydel met her glare. 

“You two aren’t exclusive,” the blonde answered, sipping her water, “If anyone is a slut, it’s you.”

Rey made a jump for her as Ben caught her before she could get her hands around her neck. 

“He’s mine! He’s always been mine, you demented cunt! Salope sans coeur! Il ne t'a jamais aimé!“

Ben dragged her out of the restaurant, made her wait outside till he could pay the check and then dragged her towards an ally way. 

“What is your problem?” he barked, “You’ve done nothing, but torment her since I’ve been trying to help her figure out a career in the arts. It’s not fair for you to tear into her like that.”

“She doesn’t care about the arts. She just wants what she can’t have and that’s you,” Rey cried, “I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Her lustful gaze that has always be there. She doesn’t deserve you.”

“And you do?!” Rey looked stunned at his words. Her face slowly crumbled as hot tears rolled down her cheeks. 

“No... no... how silly of me...” she whispered. 

“Rey...”

“No, it’s fine,” she said with more confidence, rolling her shoulders back and meeting his gaze, “I should have known better than to hope you would ever love me... Goodbye Ben.”

**New Orleans 1868**

Viola walked along the bank of a river, tossing stones in it. Her mind wondering back to Strawberry’s words. _Like a juicy peach._ She suddenly imagine what it would be like to see Clyde round, firm backside before shaking her head. _Snap out of it... he’s nothing..._ She tossed a few more rocks before sitting down. She picked up a stick and poked it into the current. Mesmerize by the flow, she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her before she felt herself being pushed into the river. With a scream and a splash, she was taken under. Tossed and tumbled by the current, she reached to the surface, only to be dragged down again. She was fortunate to find purchase on a log that had fallen, but her skirt was heavy from the water for her to pull herself up. So, she cried, screaming at the top of her lungs for anyone to hear.   
****

“Help! Anyone! Help! Aidez-Moi! Strawberry! Bigwig! Jimmy! Help!” The water pulled her under for a moment, trying to drag her away, but she held tight. Once back to the surface she tried again.

“Aidez-Moi! Aidez-Moi! Please! Help!”

Bigwig barreled through the bushes with Jimmy close behind him. Wasting no time, he climbed the log as Jimmy put his weight on it to keep it steady. 

“We gots ya, Misses,” Bigwig assures her as he reached out for her. The moment she went for his hand, she was swept under again. Her body tumbled away like it was nothing. She broke for the surface for air just to be pulled under again. It wasn’t till her skirt snagged on a rock that tried for the surface again. She treaded, gasping for air as she tried to swim towards the shore. Bigwig and Jimmy followed her down stream as Clyde showed up behind them. 

The world was going dark as her struggling became less frantic. Perhaps now she would finally be able to die. She would be away from this world and how it teased her with what if’s. No more needed to finding Kylo in men that weren’t him. She could finally be at ease and go peacefully into the night, where he was surely waiting for her with opening arms. The last thing she heard was a splash before a voice whispered to her. 

_“You’re not done yet...”_

**Hollywood 1947**

Toby met the new nanny, an old widow who smelt of mothballs and mint. Emerson and Zelda did not approve of this nanny because she mainly slept most of the day while the children wanted to play. They missed Mary and had expressed that many times to him. However, he told them that Mary had been assigned to a new family and that she would visit them whenever she could. Rosanna couldn’t care less about this nanny as she fixed her third martini for the morning.   
****

“Why are you looking at property in Malibu?” she asked as he was looking over a script.

“Land for the next movie,” he lied. 

“Really?” Rosanna raises an eyebrow before sipping her drink, “Such small acreage for a movie.”

“It’s a small project,” he answered as he marked up the script before the phone at his desk rang, “Go for Toby.”

“She’s about 6cm dilated,” spoke the nurse on the other end, “We’re guessing it’ll be another hour or so.”

“Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”  He hung up the phone before grabbing his coat, hat and keys. 

“And where are you going?”

“Abrams needs to see me for the new film we’re working on,” he said as he threw on his sunglasses, “Something about one of the actors pulling out.”

“Lair,” she growled following him to the door, “you’re going to see her. That whore! What’s so great about her anyways? She thin as a rail and talks funny.”

Toby tried to ignore the insults his wife flung. She was drunk. The alcohol made her mean, but she wasn’t a cold hearted person. She used to smile, now all she does is yell. 

“If she every sets foot in the house again, I’ll rip her to shreds,” she threatened, “You hear me, Toby! Piece by piece!”

“You don’t feel well, love,” he spoke calmly as walked to his roadster, “Why don t you lay by the pool. It’s a nice, sunny day.”

“I hope you choke!” she yelled over the engine, “Go die in a ditch for all I care, you bastard!”

He speed off, in the direction of the hospital. He had no time to deal with her pettiness. His son was being born today. 

**New Orleans 1868**

She could hear voices, soft murmurs, but her eyes wouldn’t open. She could hear the concerns and the worries from a distance. She was in her dark prison again. She could see the markings etched into the wall. All of the waiting... so much waiting... Tears formed in her eyes as she banged her fist angrily against it. _Why won’t you let me die?! Have mercy on me, please! Set me free from this misery._  
****

_“It’s not your time yet,”_ came a familiar deep voice. 

“Kylo,” she turned and found him sitting upon his artist stool as he painted away, looking away from his canvas to grin at her, “Kylo!”

She threw her arms around him as he chuckled softly, holding her close. He was so warm and real. His hair in thick locks, his smug grin, his soft brown eyes, he felt so real.

“Mon amour! Mon scamp! Mon diable! Tu m'as manqué,” she said in between kisses.

 _“Ich hab Dich auch vermisst,”_ he replied, kissing her back as she climbed into his lap. She desperately cling to him, weeping into his shoulder as he held her close.

 _“You’re still a beautiful as ever, Meine Mohnblume,”_ he whispered as he wiped her tears.

“Kylo,” she whimpered, “please don’t leave me. I can’t keep going on without you.”

 _“Oh my poppy, where is the fight that you always had? The spirit that made you stand out?”_ Kylo asked, _“You’re stronger than you let yourself on to be.”_

“But I’m not… not without you,” she said weakly.

 _“Shhh… you shouldn’t speak such nonsense,”_ he cooed, kissing her cheek, _“I’m already closer than you think.”_

“Kylo?”

 _“It’s time to wake,”_ he said, _“Wake up… Wake up… wake… up…”_

**London 2019**

He watched as she turned on her heels, tucking her hands in her jacket as she left the ally. His heart lurched as he shook his head. _Go after her, you idiot!_ He ran after her, follow her into the crowd, shoving people frantically. He wanted her. He always had. He needed her. He caught her arm before entered into a cab.   
****

“Let me go!” she cried, slamming her fists in his chest, “You don’t want me. You never have...”

He silenced her cries with a soft kiss. Her wriggling stopped and her body relaxed against him. This felt right. Out of all the craziness that seemed to go on, holding Rey in his arms was the only thing that could settle the storm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone stop me from all these updates. I need to find better hobbits, but I'm really enjoying this story and I just can't stop myself. I wanted to throw in some happy after the emotional rollercoaster the last few chapters have been. Thanks to everyone who supports me. Welcome all new readers and thanks for sticking around old ones. I'm sorry I have nothing better to do, but this is all I think about now. Thanks for nearly 6000 hits and almost 300 kudos. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this.


	24. Herbs Seller or Bayou Witch

**London 2019**

Rey watched Ben as he slept. She wanted to take in every detail of his face, to lock it away in case something did happen. Last night had been amazing. The way he took charge, throwing her down on the bed, letting his lips paint over her body with his kisses made her blush. The moment he pushed into her, it felt like her first night all over again. She was back in her chambers in that drafty castle, as he eased her suffering. He whispered sweet nothings to her like Kylo, Francisco, Clyde, Toby, and Adam had done before. He was all of them and yet so separate from them. His hands were more rough than Francisco’s. His thrusts were more concentrated than Adam’s. His grunts were deeper than Clyde’s. His kisses were very much like Kylo. She thought for a second when she looked up at him, she could see her past lover staring back at her. She almost cried, but instead pushed him onto his back so that she may have control. She couldn’t let him on to her secret. Not just yet. For instead wanted him to feel what she felt for him, whispering in French how much she loved him, adored him, admired him as he answered with his own words about how sexy she looked right now and cursed himself for not doing this sooner. When they came, it was a silent sigh from the both of them. Feeling his warmth once more, reminded her on how very much alive she was and waking up in his arms, gave her the hope that maybe she’ll finally find peace.  
 ****

Her phone buzzed next to her and she answered it.

“Hello,” she walked away from the bed as to not disturb him, “Oh Galen, my sweet. How are you feeling?… That’s good… Yes, I did read your latest book… I loved the dedication… Your father would had loved it too… How is your sister doing? Oh… I… I didn’t know… Well, at least she’s with Emerson and Greg now… When is the funeral?… Of course I’ll come. Anything for you, ma puce.”

**New Orleans 1986**

Viola woke to Strawberry dabbing her head and Amilyn pacing.  
 ****

“Misses?” Strawberry said as Viola tried to focus, “Misses, is you there?”

“Viola,” Amilyn said as she joined Strawberry.

“What… happened?”

“You fell into the river,” she answered, “The men got you out of the water. Clyde carried you back. You got a fever. You were out for nearly a week. This woman came by, some herbs seller and claimed that she would be able to help you.”

“That was a bayou witch, misses,” the handmaiden warned, “She has no right being here. She makes deals with the devil. Ain’t nothing natural what she did…”

“What matters is that you’re alive, Viola,” Amilyn stressed, “We were all concerned when it seemed like you were fading.”

“This herbs seller?” Viola asked as she tried to lift herself up, Strawberry helped her, “is she still here?”

“Yes, ma’am,” her mistress answered.

“Bring her in. I want to talk to her.”

**London 2019**

Ben woke to the sounds of something sizzling and smell of fresh coffee being brewed. He turned over to find Rey was not there, but her scent lingered in the pillow next to him. He smiled to himself as he remember their little tryst they had last night. Her soft moans still rang in his head as she rode him to the edge. _Christ… what an amazing sight…_ He should done it sooner, back in Boston when she first displayed herself to him. However the wait had been well worth it, because even after he filled her with his spent, she was still purring for more. He didn’t bother with clothes as he found her in his kitchen, wearing a grey shirt he used for sleeping as she sung to herself. When she reached for the bread on the high shelf, he watch the shirt raise to reveal her peachy bottom. He stroked himself as he eyed her well shaped ass. He imagined she did a lot of lunges to get it the right shape. So firm and soft. He walked slowly as to not disturb her from placing the bacon onto a plate before leaning over to toast the bread. He licked his fingers before teasing her folds. She gasped with surprise and relaxed into his hold.  
 ****

“Un homme méchant,” Rey whispered as he fingered her.

“Good morning, my poppy,” he said, kissing her neck where her tattoo was, “I assume you’re ready for round two.”

“I’ll never say no to you,” she sighed as she rocked back against his hand, flinching when her strummed her clit.

He watched her try to grip the counter as he position himself at her entrance. Slowly he pushed his way in, enjoying the drag of her sex enclosing him. Ben watched her as her eyes closed and she released a breath when he was fully settled into her. He could hold her forever. In the moment of pure perfection, they are one, like it should be. It felt so right to be buried in her. He shouldn’t have held out so long, because this was incredible. Then she whimpered and wriggled against.

“Déplacez-vous s'il vous plaît,” she whined.

“Shhh… just relax,” he chuckled, slowly pulling himself out till only the tip was left in her and then slamming back with great force.

He did this over and over again, making her gasp and writher under him till he picked a steady pace.

“Incroyable... fantastique… Oui… plus s'il vous plait…” she reached for him, turning her body to he would catch her leg and placed a hand around his neck, “Plus fort… Ben… Ah… Si beau… Si charmant… Tout à moi… Tout à moi….”

“Tout à moi…” he repeated with a grunt as a smile formed on her face.

“Oui… Je suis à vous… Pour toujours…”

**Hollywood 1947**   
****

He was pink, wrinkly, angry, and the best thing Toby had ever held since Zelda. As for Mary, she was more lovely than when she first set eyes on her. She slept, tired from pain of giving birth to their 8 pound son, but she had this certain glow that just radiated from her. Somehow a woman always seemed to become more beautiful after they’ve given birth. Rosanna did and now Mary looked like she could be a model. He kissed her forehead before going back to his fussy son. He cooed at the new born, holding him close, trying to keep him from waking his mother.   
 ****

“There, there little man,” he chuckled softly, “You’re all right. Mom is just resting for a bit, but she’ll be wanting to hold you soon.”

The baby continued to fuss even as Toby bounced him and shushed him. 

“Easy there, tiger,” Toby reassured him, “You’ll be fine. Maybe you’re just hungry. Don’t worry. She’ll hold you and love just like I will.”

“Toby,” spoke Mary as she tried raising herself from the bed. 

“Hey kid,” he walked over to her with the infant in hand, “No need to rush yourself. We’re not going anywhere.”

“Please, let me hold him,” she said, reaching out for the newborn and Toby helped her. Adjusting herself so he had space to sit behind her. He placed his hand around her hips as he watched her hold their son. He heard her soft sniffles which made him fear something was wrong.

“Mary? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” she whimpered, “I’ve just… always dreamed of this… of us…”

“Shhh… no need to worry anymore,” Toby assured her, kissing her temple, “Malibu is only an hour away. Soon, we’ll be a family.”

“I do hope so.”

He kissed her before turned their attention towards the baby that suckled at her teat.

“So any thoughts for a name yet?” he asked.

“Galen,” she said, “after my father. Galen Wexley Grisoni.”

**New Orleans 1868**

The herbs seller was a pale woman with these striking brown eyes and blonde locks that were pulled back into a tight bun. She wore a simple grey dress with a grey apron and had a pair of gold frame glasses. Her presence was unsettling as if she had stared into those eyes before, but Viola wasn’t going to let that get to her as the women stared each other down.  
 ****

“I am told that you are the woman who save my life,” Viola started, “May I know your name?”

“Oh, I’ve had many names like you,” the herbs seller smirked, “but you can call me Mallory.”

“My handmaiden is wry of you. Says that you might be a bayou witch…”

“Or perhaps just a witch in general, but… bayou with does have a romantic tone to it.”

“So you do not deny you deal with these dark arts?” Viola questioned.

“Always have, but you knew that already, your majesty,” Mallory wickedly smirked. Viola’s blood ran cold.

“Bazine?”

“Oh,” she laughed, “so you do remember me.”

Viola eyed the door before turning back to the witch in front of her.

“But… you’re dead… I saw your body…”

“Oh you mean as I hung,” Mallory opened her collar to reveal the faded rope burns around her neck, “I also saw you die and Lord Hux smothered you and your baby with a pillow. Yet, here we are. Funny how things work out like that, Kira.”

“How dare you talk about Galen!” Viola snapped, finding the strength to get out of her bed, “He was an innocence.”

“And yet his own mother was too weak to save him,” she giggled, pushing Viola back to the ground with a loud thud, “Pathetic. Still weak as ever. You should have known better than to try and take what was mine.”

“Kylo was never yours,” Viola snapped back, trying to pull herself from the floor, “He never wanted you. Il était à moi.”

Mallory threw her head back and laughed.

“Right, the little Casanova did have a way of every woman feeling special, but you’ll see,” the witch said.

As the door opened, Strawberry entered in shock to find her mistress on the floor.

“Misses, what happened? Did she do this?”

“No,” Mallory answered, “she fell. Right Viola?”

She met her cold stare and her wicked smirk as Strawberry helped her back into her bed.

“Yes… I wanted to thank Miss…”

“Just Mallory,” the witch answered.

“Miss Mallory for saving me,” Viola said.

“She was offering me a place to stay as an extra hand to help around this marvelous mansion,” she continued approaching the bed as Strawberry placed herself between her and her mistress.

“You is the devil. Misses should knows better than to let you stay,” her handmaiden challenged, “I seen what she does. It’s unnatural.”

“Ha… is that how you talk to those more superior than you?”

“You ain’t my superior. You is evil. If Misses knows what’s best, she turn you out into the street.”

“Strawberry,” Viola interrupted their quarrel, “Mallory was saying that she’s a skilled cook and we could use the extra help. Please, show her to the cook’s quarters. She can sleep there for now.”

Though she did not like it, Viola figured it was for the best. If Mallory was Bazine in a past life, it was best to keep her close where she could keep an eye on her.

**London 2019**

Caleb sat in Hyde Park near a fountain, reading his book as Kaydel joined him on the bench.  
 ****

“You’re late,” he muttered, not looking up from the tome he was reading.

“Never late, darling,” she answered, “You’re just early.” He glared at that remark as he marked his chapter.

“I heard you had a little scuffle with her majesty,” he said, making her face sour, “You don’t suppose that he is the one.”

“He resembles Kylo the most, the only good thing is that he still doesn’t remember a thing,” the intern added as she lite her cigarette, “Still, there is the chance that he’s not. I would hate to kill him.”

“You had no trouble with the last one,” Caleb remarked, “Almost left him in a bloody pulp.”

“They were too close for my liking,” she sneered, “and again, I saw him first.”

“So what do you suggest we do?”

“We wait. If he started to remember, then you know what you have to do.”

“Me?”

“I killed the last two. It’s the deal we have.”

She watched his face contort into a glare. 

“What’s wrong? It’s not like you haven’t done it before,” Kaydel teased blowing smoke in his face. 

**New Orleans 1868**

He had gotten her telegram as he looked over the estate. _She’s looking for hand for hire. Work the bare minimum and she’s yours._ He shoved the yellowed paper back in his pocket as he made strides towards the home. He fixed his coat and hair before knocking on the oak door. He was greeted by an older woman with blonde hair and a stern look.   
 ****

“Can I help you?” The woman asked.

“Beg ya pardon, Miss,” he spoke, laying his Irish accent on thick, “but I heard tell that you were looking for some strong hands to work your fields.”

“If you’re looking for money, we have none to give,” she replied, ready to close the door in his face, but he interjected himself.

“Oh no, Miss. Just need a place to rest my head and food to fill my belly is all,” he said, hoping she’d take the bit.

“What is your name?” the woman asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Hux, ma’am, Armitage Hux.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... Hey guys. I have nothing better to do than to write this tale about love, passion, romance, and tragic. I mean... I have a job... and other projects to do, but to heck that, this is what makes me happy. Who knows? Maybe I'll actually write that book that I've always wanted to write. Meh... we'll see. Thanks again to the wonderful Luciefee for helping me with my French (cause honestly I can't speak it.) Thanks to Jess444 for the amazing reviews you leave for my chapters. Thanks to Halliwell19, Brizeeboo, and Beebee8 for your support as well. Thanks to the 6000 hits and nearly 300 kudos. Enjoy the smut, sorry for the angst. Don't worry, it will be worth the journey everyone.


	25. Zelda Part I

**Malibu 1950**

Zelda Grisoni’s earliest memory was the summer she had turned 6 and her father was taking her and her brother, Emerson, on a trip to the coast, to enjoy the beach before they had to go back to school. There was going to be a surprise he had told them as the loaded into the roadster. She was told that it was going to be the best surprise they had ever gotten. She remembered her mother being spiteful of them leaving her behind, but then again, their father had expressed multiple times that he had grown tired of her drama and abandoning them any chance she got. She heard their fight from the night before where glass shattered, their father yelling and their mother screaming. She was sure she heard a scuffle between the two followed by a slam of a door and their father yelling obscenities in the house. She crawled into her brother’s bed for comfort as he held her through the night, reassuring her that a summer away would be best for all of them.   
 ****

Despite the fallout between the couple, their father had promised the two of them a nice, quiet summer in a house he had purchased in Malibu before he started his next film project. Zelda loved the entire car ride as her father and Emerson sang songs from Oklahoma! as she watch the mountains grow bigger and busy city sink behind them. It was an excitement she couldn’t contain as she screamed when she saw the _Welcome to Malibu_ sign in front of them. Once they were over the hill, their father pointed out the quaint yellow house with the green door. Her father pulled into the dirt driveway where a little terrier with orange spots and white face bound to meet them. 

“A puppy!” Zelda screamed as her and Emerson jumped from the car to greet to wired terrier. He sniffed and gave them kisses before rolling on his back, exposing his belly in delight at the children. 

“Is this the surprise, Dad?” Emerson asked as Zelda continued to coo at the dog. 

“Part of it,” he answered as another figure came out to greet them. 

There she was in a simple green dress with a white apron on and her hair loose in soft waves. She held that same cheery smile and the same sparkling hazel eyes. She had to be the best surprise they could have asked for. 

“Mary!” They cried in unison as they ran to their old nanny. She laughed as she knelt for both of them hugging them and kissing their heads. 

“My, how you’ve both grown,” she giggled, “mes canetons, I’ve missed you both so much.”

“So she’s the surprise?” Emerson asked before turning back to her, “Does that mean you’re coming back with us? Are you replacing Mrs. Fisher?”

“She’s the worst,” Zelda chimed in, “She smells like old newspapers.”

“Like gross baby powder and morning breath,” Emerson added, “She has so many chins and wrinkles!”

“Oh, and she snores so loud!”

“Maman,” came a tiny voice. Mary looked over her shoulder, reached out a hand and nodded her head. 

“Viens là, ma puce. Rencontrez vos frères et soeurs,” she called. A small boy appeared from the corner of the hall and slowly approached the door. Zelda looked over the boy. He had soft dark, blonde curls with a pouty lip and the same hazel eyes as Mary. He sucked his thumb as he hid behind the nanny. It was then Zelda turned towards her own brother and noticed that the boy almost had the same nose and ears as Emerson, the kind that were almost too big from his head. The same ones that she would often tease him till he wrestled her into the ground and their mother would yell at him for messing up his sister’s dress.

“Darlings,” Mary said with a sweet tone, hugging the small boy, bringing him closer towards them, “this is Galen. He’s only three and knows very little English, but he loves swimming, running, and reading.”

“And he’s your brother,” their father finished.

“Brother?” Zelda was confused. Why would her parents have another child and then leave him with Mary? Was it cause she was lonely or was she still their nanny, but only took care of younger children? Was that the reason she left? Did they not want them knowing about him yet?

“Half-brother,” Emerson corrected as she saw his expression turn dark as he glared at their father, “You said this was a summer for us and you drop this on us? Is he the _real_ reason we don’t see you anymore?”

“Emerson, love, it wasn’t planned like this,” Mary said trying to calm the 9 year old boy, “Your father and I… we just fell in love…”

“Like those other maids and nannies that _fall in love_ with big shot Hollywood director,” he spat.

“Emerson,” their father snapped, but Emerson made a break for the beach.

Zelda was left in the living room with Galen as Mary and her father spoke in hush voices in the kitchen. It was a nice change from the shouting that would take place in her home. They seemed to share concern about the children getting along. She watched as her father rubbed Mary’s arms and kiss her cheek before pulling her into an embrace. It was almost nice to see this much softer side of her dad that she rarely got to see. The way he acted with Mary was very different from the way he acted with her mother. There was something there that was more genuine and sweet, like what she had seen on TV or in movies. 

Emerson did not return till the sun had set. When he did, he stomped up the stairs as her father tried talking to him. He rarely raised his voice to them, but it seemed like that was going to be different as a shouting match seemed to start between the two of them. When there was a loud crash, Mary went up to see if she could decipher the situation. A few moments later, her father charged down the stairs grumbling to himself before heading out the door. With a slam of the front door everything went quiet and still. Zelda looked at her blonde “half”-brother (still unsure of what the term meant) as he sniffled softly.

“Hey Galen,” she said softly, joining him on the floor, “you know Daddy is normally not this mean. He’s only mad cause Emerson is being a pain in the ass.”

The little boy looked up at her wide eye as huge tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Don’t let Daddy hear you say that though,” she whispered, “It’s a bad word Mommy uses to call Daddy behind his back.”

He stared at her confused as if only half understanding what she was saying.

“Or maybe it’s just my mommy that call him that,” she shook her head and went to her satchel. She pulled out a color book and some crayons she had gotten for her birthday and showed them to Galen.

“Do you like crayoning?” He seemed to understand that and he ran towards the other side of the living room. He returned with his own tin of crayons and a sketchpad. He opened up the pad and Zelda was greeted with a wide range of rainbows, houses, dogs, and people. His crayon set was even larger than hers. Where she only had 12, he had 64. Galen plotted on the floor, opening to a clean page and began to color. Zelda watched as he drew a circle with smaller circles inside. Next came streaks of gold along the top of the circle before drawing a red triangle. After a few more squiggles and a curve, Galen presented her with his master piece.

“Caneton,” he said with pride as she looked over the drawing.

“Caneton?” Zelda repeated and the little boy nodded.

“Caneton,” Galen pointed at her, making her realize that he had drawn her.

“Oh…” she smiled, “it’s really good. You even got my dress right.”

Footstep could be heard as Mary reappear with a sad Emerson. She took a handkerchief and whipped his face, whispering some kind words to him, remind him on how much she and his father cared about him, before kiss his forehead. He joined her and Galen in the living room, sitting in a large, plush chair, reading one his books as Mary made them supper. Galen found the courage to walk up to the beast of a brother, intrigued by the novel he had. 

“Livre?” the little boy asked pointed at his novel. 

“Go away pest,” Emerson growled. 

“Be nice,” Zelda snapped, “He’s little and probably doesn’t understand you.”

“Well, then maybe he’ll learn that he’s not wanted. Allez-vous en.”

“Lire. Me lire,” Galen demanded as Mary entered to set the table.

“Galen,” she caught the boy’s attention, “Lisez-moi, s'il vous plaît.”

“Lisez-moi, s'il vous plaît,” he repeated with force making Zelda giggle. 

“What are you reading, my sweet?” Mary asked as she joined them. 

“ _Journey to the Center of the Earth_.” He handed Mary the book so she could look it over, blushing slightly.

Galen went to a bookshelf in the corner of the living room and pulled out a large picture book. He pushed into Emerson’s lap as the older boy groaned. 

“Lisez-moi, s'il vous plaît caneton,” Galen huffed, slapping the book he hand handed. 

“Okay, okay, geez kid,” he groaned as the small boy climbed into his lap. Zelda smirked at this display. Her brother never let her onto his lap, but sight of him with Galen was silly.

“Read caneton,” she giggled as he shot her a warning look. 

“Once upon a time, there was a fair maiden called Cinderella...”

Zelda woke to someone cradling her and rubbing her back. Her belly was full and she felt warm. Last thing she remembers was her and Galen sitting on a large couch together, looking at another of his picture books as Emerson helped Mary with the dishes. She doesn’t remember when her father got back or if him and her brother had made up. However, she always loved being held by him. It one of her favorite things next to puppies and chocolate sundaes.

“Daddy,” she yawned. 

“Shhh... princess. Go back to sleep,” he answered in a soft rumble as he laid her down. 

“Where’s Galen?” She had hoped to play with him more.

“He’s getting tucked in by Mary, sweetheart,” he said as he helped her out of her dress. 

“I know Emerson is mad at you for having another kid, but I like Galen.”

“I’m glad, sweetie.” Her father slipped her into her favorite nightgown with ease and undid her pigtails, before laying her back down. 

“He just needs some time... to get used to him...”

“We all do, princess.”

“Is that why you’re away so much? Because of Galen?”

“Sort of,” he answered honestly, “I have to make sure he’s well taken care of.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry,” Zelda yawned, “He has the best mommy ever.”

She felt his mustache tickle her forehead before drifting off to a dreamless sleep.

The following days were met with a few more bumps. Emerson claiming he was too old to hang out with “babies” like her and Galen and often ventured along the beach with the terrier named Bee-bee. So this left Zelda and her half-brother to get to know each other. She learned that he was very creative, often in making up stories with stuff animals and dolls as Zelda would try to help. The problem was the language barrier. Galen only knew a few English words and Zelda knew nothing about French. Emerson, however, could speak French. So, she pestered him to teach her.

“Why should I help you speak to that?” he asked, annoyed that his sister had interrupted his time with the terrier. 

“Because he’s our brother and I want to get to know him.”

“Learn it yourself, I’m busy.”

“Busy being a pain in the ass,” she grumbled.

“What did you call me?” Emerson glared.

“A pain in the ass!” Zelda said fiercely, meeting his glare.

“Hey, you can’t call me that.”

“And why not?! It’s true! This whole time you’ve ignored poor Galen when all he wants is to hang out with you,” she snapped, placing her hands on her hips and holding her head high, “I’ve seen how he’ll follow you around.”

“He shoves books out of my hand so I can read to him.”

“Haven’t you’ve always wanted a brother?” she asked, “I’ve heard you tell Daddy you wish I was a boy so you could do boy stuff with me instead of getting yelled at by Mommy when you try.”

Emerson looked down at the terrier, who waited patiently for him to throw the stick.

“Come on, Bee-bee. Let’s go back to the house,” he said.

Teaching Galen turned to be a challenge. He would fuss anytime he didn’t get his way, but Emerson was firm that he had to learn some words.

“Book,” the older boy said, pointing at Galen’s favorite story about a boy and a beanstalk, “Répéter.”

“No,” he cried and tried snatching it out of his hand, “Donnez-moi.”

“Galen, he just wants to teach you,” Zelda tried to reassure the little boy.

“Come on, kid. Just say book and I’ll give it to you,” Emerson said as he kept the book from the boy’s reach.

“Donnez-moi! Donnez-moi!”

“What is going on?” Mary asked, coming back with the wash.

“We’re trying to teach Galen some words, but he’s so stubborn,” Zelda answered as the little boy hit Emerson in the crotch, making him buckle towards the floor.

“Galen,” she snapped, dropping the basket of clean clothes, and kneeling down to her son’s level, “C'était déplacé. Nous ne frappons pas.”

“Mais il avait mon livre,” the little boy whimpered as Emerson groaned.

Mary helped him off the ground as she made Galen apologize before sending him to the corner. Zelda and Emerson got to eat some ice cream as Mary went to explain to Galen what he did was wrong.

“That kid is a menace,” her older brother bit.

“He just doesn’t know any better,” she defended as Mary came back with her son. He sat in a chair next to Zelda and across from Emerson. The older boy glared at the younger one as Mary served him some ice cream as well.

In the evening, their father came back from the store, carrying in new toys for everyone. Zelda had a new doll to play with as Emerson was given a pair of pitchers gloves and a baseball. Little Galen got a duck that he affectionally named Zelda. While Emerson and their father played catch, Galen and Zelda decided to put on a small play for Mary. She applauded them for a job well done and allowed them to curl up on either side of her as she read to them another story, both falling fast asleep by the time Emerson and her dad came back.

Zelda woke in the middle of the night to hear whispers. When she opened her door, she found Mary and her father were still awake. She crept down the stairs, quietly watching them from the kitchen as he dried the dishes she was washing.

“Why won’t you let me file the divorce papers?” she heard him ask, “The kids still love you and, yeah, Emerson is still being a stick in the mud, but Zelda truly cares about Galen. If I leave Rosanna, then I can be you with. I can live out here! We can be a family.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, mon amour,” Mary whispered affectional, cupping his face, “I’m thinking what’s best for the children.”

“What’s best for the children is having someone who love them, nurture them,” he said, tossing the towel over his shoulder, and grasping Mary’s waist, “Remember that night in San Diego? When we had to stay over night in that lovely hotel?”

“Homme diabolique,” she giggled and tried to shove him away.

“It was the night you told me you were pregnant,” he continued, not letting her go, “You were trembling so much.

“Because I was afraid of what you might say,” she answered, looking down at his chest, “I was afraid that I might have ruined you.”

“Never, Mary. You could never ruin me, because in that moment I knew I had true fallen in love with you,” Zelda’s father said as he dug something out of his pocket. She heard Mary gasp, but could see what it was. She watched as he took the nanny’s hand and placed a solid white-gold band on her ring finger. “It was the happiest day of my life knowing that you were going to have my child. And if you let me, I would like to try for another.”

Zelda ran back up the stairs and into Emerson’s room. She shook him awake with excitement from what she just saw. He groaned, murmuring some words she couldn’t understand before falling back asleep. So she tried Galen instead. When she entered his room, she found it much harder to disturb him. She looked upon his sleeping body with envy, nearly jealous at how beautiful he looked in slumber. He suckled his thumb while he sleep and snored soft as he dreamt. So, instead, Zelda chose to climb into his bed with him, curling up to him and whispered softly about how much she loved him as a brother.

Beach days were the best part of that summer. It was almost like the trip they took the Miami where Mary was now helping Galen become a strong swimmer and Emerson and Zelda were being chased along the shore by their father. The children build a sandcastle together till Emerson decided to play giant and knock it down. They chased seagulls with Bee-bee as their parents watched them from the towels before calling them over for lunch. Galen had slowly picked up some English words, pointing to different food items that he wanted and their parents encouraging him to continue. Zelda eyed the band on Mary’s finger as it glint in the sun, smiling at the silent promise that was between her and her father. She silently hoped that there would be a girl next time they came.

Emerson seemed to finally be warming up to his younger brother as he carried him on his back as they walked back to house at the end of their beach day. She could hear the younger boy sleepy whisper ,”Je t'aime grand frère,” as Zelda looked on with a twinge of jealousy. 

Soon, Emerson and Galen were inseparable and Zelda was starting to regret pushing him to build a relationship with their newest sibling. No more did she have a companion to draw or put on shows with. Now he was off learning how to catch a baseball and race with Emerson and Bee-bee. Mary did take time, braiding her hair with flowers they would find and her father would let her nap on his chest as he went over a script or two. Being the only girl did have its advantages, because it gave her a chance to spend time with Mary as they would sneak out to collect shells, allow her to try on Mary’s dresses or she would even let Zelda have an extra cookie after dinner. These were things her mother never did. 

“Mary, would you mind if I called you Maman like Galen does?” she had asked one night when she was helping Mary with the dishes. 

The nanny nearly dropped a plate from hearing question and Zelda had worried she had offended her. 

“Mon caneton, what would make you want to do that?”

Zelda looked down at her feet, shying away from the question, afraid that she might get in trouble.

“It’s not that I don’t love my mommy. She can be a good mommy sometimes... it’s just that you were always a better mommy... but I can’t call you mommy, so...”

“Oh my sweet,” Mary cooed, pulling her in for a tight hug, and kissing her forehead, “Of course you can call me Maman.”

The last day of summer was the hardest one. Galen was not happy about being the only child again. Emerson pushes his food around while Zelda picked at her toast. Mary did her best to explain to the three year old that it would not be the last time he would see them, but he cried and fussed the entire morning. Their father took the little boy and allowed him to cry into his shoulder, mad that his father would be leaving as well. While their dad sat on the back porch with Galen, Mary tried to busy herself with things around the house, such as making sure their bags were pack and they had a proper lunch. By the time the evening came, it was time to say goodbye. Mary hugged and kissed both Emerson and Zelda as she sniffled softly.

“Oh my darlings, I’ll miss you so much,” she said.

“We’ll be back soon,” Emerson assured her, “I promised Galen I would read more to him.”

He went over to his younger brother and handed him his copy of _Journey to the Center of the Earth._

“Next time, buddy, we’ll read this one, okay?” he said and the little boy threw his arms around him.

“Okay,” Galen answered.

“Maman,” Zelda whimpered, “I don’t want to go.”

“My sweet girl, you’ll be back soon,” Mary said as she held her close, “and before you know it, it’ll be summer all over again.”

“Caneton,” she heard Galen say, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, puce,” Zelda said, hugging her younger brother, “Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime, caneton,” he replied.

It was dark by the time they reach Los Angeles. They stopped in a dinner for a quick bit as their father cleared his throat.

“Now, that it’s just us, I need you two to promise me something,” he said in a serious tone, “We just went to the coast. It was only the three of us. We never saw Mary and you have no younger brother.”

“What does that mean?” Zelda asked after she took a sip of her milkshake.

“Your mother and Mary have a very strained relationship,” he continued, “When your mother found out about the affair, she was very unsettled by in. She hasn’t been the same since. So, for her to know you two were with Mary or that there is another child that is not hers, would just ruin her.”

“You’re saying she would harm Mary and Galen?” Emerson asked.

“Or you two and that’s the last thing I want. So please,” he stressed as he reached for his billfold, “it was just the three of us. No Mary and Galen does not exist.”

When they came back to their mansion in Burbank, there was a man with red hair stumbling out from the front, franticly trying to tuck his shirt back in as he went to his car. Zelda knew him as an uncle that came to see her mother when her father wasn’t around. Uncle Caleb was what she called him, Mommy’s special friend and Daddy’s assistance. However, she was sure uncle’s didn’t do things like sneak into her parents’ room and jump on the bed with women who weren’t their wife.

“Caleb,” her father said, acknowledging his existence, “are you lost?”

The red hair man froze and turned towards the family getting out the roadster.

“Toby! What a surprise? What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” he said in a threaten manner, “I think I should be asking you that question.”

“I was looking for you,” the man said nervously, “Boss wanted that new script you were working on.”

“I sent it a week ago. Try again.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as Emerson and Zelda watch their father nearly tower over the man.

“Rosanna needed some help with the gardening…”

“It’s 8 o’clock at night,” he sneered, “but I’ll give one more chance before I deck in the face.”

“I was fucking your wife,” Caleb bit and soon hit the floor out cold.

“Kids, into the house,” their father ordered, “Now!”

The children scrambled from the car and ran into the house. They didn’t even bother with the fact their mother was passed out cold in the den, half naked for the world to see. Instead they hid away in their rooms, only coming out for the first day of school the next day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could be a filler chapter, but I really wanted to tell part of the story through the eyes of someone who is not one of our main characters than who better than someone I killed in an early chapter. Thank you all so much for your support and contributions. Brief shout of the Lucifee, who has been helping me with my French. Thank you to all old and new readers for enjoying this story. I had a dream that my story got taken down for being too smutty, but what... I think I would hate AO3 if they did that. Anyways, can this story get 300 kudos?! Be sure to kudo the shit out of this fic. That's all I want in life. And maybe like Reylo to be endgame, but mainly like the 300 kudos. That would awesome though. Kay, thanks, bye.


	26. Make the Whispers Stop

**London 2019**

Ben wanted to keep their relationship a secret. Since Rey was still an intern under him, he did not want to ruin her chances on having some creditability for working on this project. She did put in the most hours out of the four interns, even if it was just to kiss him in the studio while everyone had left for the night. However, her heart was in the right place as she took her time with each piece she was given to restore. He looked over her shoulder as she worked on getting the skin tone just right on portrait and cursed to herself when she realized the shade was too light.  
****

“Lighter colors are easier to cover over than darker ones,” he said briefly looking over his shoulder before kissing her neck, “Relax.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, “My head is in a different place.”

“How was the funereal?” Ben asked.

“It was a bit much really, but I’m glad she’s not suffering anymore.”

“Were you two close?”

“More than you can imagine and Galen…” she bit her lip before continuing.

“Galen?” _Why did that name sound so familiar?_ “Galen Grisoni? The writer?”

Her face color slightly, before turning back to the portrait.

“Anyways this shade is just completely wrong,” she fussed as she wiped her paint brush, “I might as well just turn her into a ghost.”

Ben softly chuckled.

“However you fix it, just remember, small strokes,” he added before moving on to the other interns. 

**New Orleans 1868**

Viola was on edge, in her own home. She was sleeping less and less with the hire hand and cook in her house. She saw them whisper to each other and few times, as if they had talked to each other before, Viola had no memories of Bazine and Armitage ever being close. If she did, they probably died when she came back to life. Still, she didn’t like their wicked smirks they would send her way. They knew if she talked, everyone would assume she was crazy, locking her away in a padded room to live out the rest of her endless life. Still, she avoided the kitchen at all possible. She never sat too close to the Irish man and bayou witch. They tormented her even when they weren’t in the same room as her. It felt like she was in the castle all over again, a prisoner to her own home.   
****

When she couldn’t take the buzzing whispers anymore, she ran bolted from her home as the winds were starting to pick up. Blinded by tears, she made a break for her corn field, screaming for the whispers to stop.

_She’s never changed._

_How strange no one has caught on._

_Look at her_

_So thin, like she barely exists._

_She’ll break soon enough._

_She always will._

“STOP IT!” Viola screamed into the night air, “PLEASE JUST STOP! I can’t live like this.”

But the whispers only got louder. 

_Weak._

_Pathetic._

_Worthless._

_Nothing._

_Whore._

_Did you know you broke his heart?_

_He got what he deserved._

_He’ll always get what he deserves._

_He was mine first._

Viola covered her ears, hoping that it would make them stop. 

“You’re not real. You can’t hurt me. You’re not here.” She repeated those words over and over again as she knelt to the ground. Slowly, she began to curl into a ball, whimpering softly for the whispers to stop. “You’re not real. You can’t hurt me. You’re not there.”

“Viola!” She heard from afar.

“Kylo...” She looked up to see the glow of a lantern heading towards her. 

“Viola Eade! Where are you?” It was Clyde as he parted the corn stoke before finding her on the ground, “Thank God,” he whispered as he joined her, “Miss Holdo thought she heard you ran off. I was afraid you might have gotten swept away again.”

She heard other voices calling her names that sounded like Amilyn, Jimmy and Bigwig. Clyde was ready to call out to them, Viola stopped him. 

“Please,” she begged, “I don’t want them to see me like this.”

He nodded as he set the lantern down before reaching for his handkerchief. 

“Here. To wipe your face,” he said as he handed her the white cloth, “Are you still having those bad dreams?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to not break down. The last thing she needed was to be a blubbering baby in front of this man. Clyde shifted closer to her and put his arm around. In one fluid motion, he pulled her into his chest just held her. As soon as his scent hit her, so many memories came rushing back. _He was so warm and soft. He kissed her any chance he got. He whispered sweet nothings to her and their unborn child. He nuzzled into her neck as he snored softly. He sketched her. He praised her. “I love you so much, Kira.”_ More tears ran hot down her face as she buried her face into Clyde’s chest. He cooed at her as he stroked her hair, reassuring her that he was right there. 

“I miss him... I miss him so much...”

“I know,” he answered, “The admiral must have been a very good man, but... he’s still here.”

Viola almost laughed at Clyde’s misunderstanding, but even he didn’t know where her tears came from, at least he made an effort to make her feel better. She pulled back and looked deep into the soft brown eyes. In the shadow of the lantern glow, she felt like she could see the reminisce of a man she know long ago. Perhaps not as well kept, but he was there. The way he looked at her said it all. She took her hand and cupped her cheek, feeling the course hairs of his mustache and beard. Her thumb traced along his bottom lip, still soft as ever. If she allowed herself, she could fall in love with this man, to start anew. Kylo and Francisco were long gone, but they were still here in the eyes of the man before her. She slowly leaned forward, afraid that he might be offended if she got to close, but could feel him coming closer as well. Her slipped to his neck, feeling the soft hair that rested at his neck. His breath was hot on her face as her eyes fluttered closed. She could be happy with Clyde, a gentle man who listened to her and could chase her demons away. Perhaps he was the one who was waiting for her all along.

 _Kira…_ Then she stopped and looked behind her. 

“Viola!” came Jimmy’s voice and the two broke apart, raising to their feet to act as if nothing happened. The older Logan spilt the corn and breathed a sigh of relief.

“You beat me to her, Clyde,” he chuckled as he slapped his brother on the shoulder before turning towards his mistress, “Are you all right, Miss Eade?”

She nodded, not trusting her words. He raised an eyebrow and looked between the two.

“Umm… Clyde, why don’t you walk Miss Eade back to the house? I’ll gather everyone up to let them we found her,” he said, as if he understood what was about to happen before.

Viola grabbed the lantern before Clyde could and lead the way. When they were far enough ahead, she reached out her hand to his. When he took it, a it felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The universe seemed to go still as his finger slipped perfectly in-between hers. She was at ease feeling his hand engulf hers. When came to her side, taking her pace, she felt more grounded in the reality that was now. 

Clyde walked Viola to her door, not letting go of her hand as they stared at each other. She had left the lantern on the porch, so her eyes had to adjust to the darkness. Shrouded in darkness, she could only make out his silhouette, an outline of the past. However she could feel his eyes roaming over her, drinking her in like she was something to marveled at.

“Vous souvenez-vous de moi?” she bravely asked.

“What?” Clyde responded.

“It’s nothing,” she quickly said, releasing his hand and turning towards the door. The whispers started to build again.

_He’ll never be yours._

Viola hesitated for the door, her hand barely reaching for the handle.

“Clyde,” she said not looking away from the door, “would you keep me company for the night? I feel like it would help me sleep better knowing you were there.”

“Umm… I don’t think it would be proper…”

“Clyde, please,” she whimpered, “The nightmares… they just get worse… but with you… it fades into the dark… and then there is nothing to fear anymore…”

She felt him weighing his options. It was sweet that he thought about her integrity, but she lived miles away from the main town and they hardly got any visitors. The only person who might berate for this would be Amilyn. He reached for the handled and opened the door for her. Viola slowly walked to her waiting bed as she heard the door closing behind her. She turned to find Clyde was still there. He crossed over to her till they were nearly toe-to-toe with each other, Viola straining her neck to meet his gaze. He nodded toward the bed as he slowly shrug off his spenders and toeing off his boots. She got into the bed as he pulled the covers over her before laying on top of the covers to create some space between them. Viola turned on her side to face him. They just stared in peaceful silence, breathing in near unison as the air around them settled. She slowly scooted closer to him to feel his warmth before he reached out and pulled her into his chest.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he whispered as her breath hitched. Her heart felt so much lighter. She relaxed into him, feeling content for the first time.

**London 2019**

Kissing Rey was one of his favorite past times. Ben loved how her body fitted so well against his and feeling her arms around his waist made him feel content. A cough from a snooty businessman who had a look of distain on his face. Rey softly giggled as Ben apologized, taking her hand as the left the subway. It had become a regular thing for them to go to his apartment after a long at the institute. There they could unwind with a glass of wine and a hot meal that Ben made while they watched some classic movies. Rey had been on a recent trend on watching all of Toby Grisoni’s movies. The next one on their list was _The Great Affair_ , a story about star crossed lovers who meet over and over again in different time periods. A grand love story that Rey was insistent that they skip.  
****

“Why not? They say that this is is best film,” Ben said as he popped in the DVD.

“It’s not one of my favorites,” Rey remarked with a hint of a lie.

“But he wrote the screenplay and over saw the costume designs to make sure they were replicating history,” he continued looking at the box cover and suddenly pausing for a second, “Ha… you know… it’s kind of funny, but the actors look a lot like Kaydel and Nathan…”

**Bamberg 1984**

Adam insisted that _The Great Affair_ was the best film ever made as he dragged Daisy to the cinema. He laughed as she wanted to dig her heels into the ground, whining that they could be doing something more productive with their time.  
****

“Come on, Daz,” he grunted, picking her up by her waist and throwing her over his shoulder. He slapped her ass when she started to kick and pound on his back.

“Scélérat!” she huffed as he chuckled.

“You’ll love it,” Adam answered as he approached the box-office, “Trust me.”

They were fortunate enough that the theatre was mostly empty. There were a few older couples and people here and there, but the last room was empty, giving them some privacy. When it transition the Revolutionary War, Adam felt Daisy’s hand tinkering with his belt. A great battle played on the screen as her hand snuck into his pants to pull out his member.

“Daz…”

“Shhh… Watch the movie,” she said cheekily with a playful smirk as she began caressing him.

He coughed slightly as Jose Ramos-Horta came on screen to give his grand speech. Two could play at that game as he began to reach for the buttons of her blouse. Looking over he can see her lovely, erect nipples as he shifted the blouse to expose one and tease it with his fingers. Her grip tighten slightly when he did that, making him grunt.

“People will see,” Daisy whispered harshly.

“My dick is already out and no one has said anything,” he nibbled on her ear, “I think we’ll be fine.”

The scene transition to a plantation from after the Civil War where Jose is a hired hand working for Rosanna Ricci. She had just smacked him across the face for speaking out of turn and the man grabbed her with force and began shaking her.

 _“You know something don’t you,”_ Jose said, _“This isn’t the first time that we’ve met and it’s not the last. That cruel fate is playing with our hearts.”_

“ _Let me go!”_ Rosanna screamed.

 _“You’ve seen my face before. You know who I am or who I used to be. Tell you have, Kira,”_ Jose demanded, Daisy stopped and looked back at the screen.

_“From some other time we were madly in love, but could not be together. And it’s not the first time it’s happened.”_

Rosanna stared into Jose’s face with a trembling lip before throwing herself at him. They fell into a pile of hay, kissing each other passionately as the scene transition into the after affects of the love making, where a blanket covers their nude bodies as Rosanna plays with Jose’s thick locks.

Daisy then proceed to climb into Adam’s lap, turning herself away from the screen as she rid herself of her underwear and sunk onto his throbbing cock. Her pleated skirt covered where they locked as she began rocking against him.

“Regarde moi,” she commanded, “Ne les regarde pas. Regarde moi.”

Adam stared at the sultry look she had. He had never been more turned on in his how life. They never broke eye contact as the movie continued in the background. When they came, it was only a whisper as the music swelled behind them of the lovers reuniting once more.

“Souviens-toi de moi,” Daisy sighed before falling against him.

**New Orleans 1868**

Clyde was still there when she woke, softly snoring with his arm still secured around her. Viola smiled as she pushed some of his long locks out of his face. He shift slightly, pulling her closer so she was inches away from his face, groaning slightly before relaxing. Viola could make out every detail on his face, a face that she had seen before, that had always been there. She released a staggered breath as she felt her heart race. Would he hate her if she did? She eyed his plush lips, _those devilish lips_ , tempting her. Then she looked back up at his sleeping face, so content with where he was. He wanted this as much as she wanted him. She could tell just in the way he held her. Finding the courage, she slowly closed her eyes, puckering her lips as they brushed against his and sealed them with his. A rush of pure, blissful memories filled her mind of her time in London, Paris, and Lisbon. Like a lighting bolt piercing through her, everything was sparking, making her feel so refreshed. Nothing else matter anymore. It was just her and him, like it was always meant to be. She felt Clyde returning the kiss as he groaned softly, nipping her bottom lip to take it further. He rolled her over on her back, pulling away slightly to look at her blushing face. She nodded as he pulled away the covers and hiked up her gown to reveal the soft skin of her thighs as she tucked at his trousers to reveal his throbbing member. Wasting no time, he settled between her legs as if he had done it many times before, nearly toppling over as he only had one hand, but let out a primal groan when he settle into her.  
****

“Shit… I feels like a dream,” he murmured.

“Don’t talk,” she said wrapping her legs around him, “Just do.”

Their lips never parted as Clyde thrusted into her. Viola was grateful, because she feared how loud she would get from. The mattress softly creaked under them as Clyde became more confident and sure, leading her into a nearly blinding climax. She wept softly as he finished inside her, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Hell… I could get used to that,” he whispered as he lazily kissed her neck. Viola just remained silent, just content in the wonderful silence that surrounded her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Adam's here! I wanted to have a soft Clyde chapter and sprinkle in a little sexy Adam. Clyde is one of my favorite characters Adam Driver next to Kylo Ren. So I just stans soft!Adam. Soft!Adam is the best Adam. Thank you all for all your support. Thank you for getting this fic to 300 kudos. Thank you for the comments and all the hits! I'm over the moon. I'm glad so many are enjoying this as much as I am writing. Till next time.


	27. Meurtrier

**London 1570**

Armitage watched as the king paced in his chambers. He looked exhausted, sweat covered his brow as he grunted. More than anything he was mad like a raging bull in its pin.  
 ****

“Bastard… to think he would do something like… and she… she…” he threw a vase across the wall, “I want them found! Even if you have to drag them by the scalp!”

It had taken them nearly 13 months to track Kylo Ren and Kira Leclair. Lord Armitage Hux was put in charge of this investigation. He had his men torture the answers out of the Scotsman the queen had been so close to, breaking him till he was battered and bruised. Though he did not give them up, his son’s wife was willing to give up some information in the vain hope that it would save her father-in-law. The huntsman had provided the couple with some money and two fine horses to make their escape. He helped them get beyond the castle wall and even knew the captain of the ship that they were boarding to assure them safe travels. 

When the rumors of their secret affair got to the king, he had become enraged. For betraying his trust, he sent Lord Wexley’s family back to Scotland, deemed as traitors to the crown. He had Lord Wexley hang publicly for his crimes and left his body on display for anyone to see. Poe Dameron wanted to personal hunt down the artist and wring his neck for making him a fool, but Armitage persuaded him to let the lord get the scoundrel and his wife for him. 

When he found them, they lived on a small farm, just the two of them and soon to be three with the queen being so heavy with child. He sent one of his scouts to send a message to the king, to let him know that his queen was being held hostage and had clearly been raped by the devious monster that is Kylo Ren. They waited till the artist had gone into town to sell any goods and took Kira first.

“Your majesty,” he jested, “My, you have seemed to have humbled yourself so much.”

His men tied her arms behind her back as she struggled and growled at him.

“Hux, you bastard,” she challenged, “Let me go this insist.”

“Shh… my pet,” he said, cupping her chin, “You don’t want to get too upset in your fragile state. Come quietly and no harm will come to you or your child.”

Armitage waited in the shadows of the cottage as Kylo came home.

“Mon coquelicot,” he said with such sicken affection, “we did well today. I hope you’re in the mood for goose…”

The lord punched the artist in the face, catching him off guard as he tumbled backwards. He chuckled to himself as he watched Kylo struggled to find his footing.

“Mon coquelicot,” he mimicked, “Touching. What other sweet nothings do you say to your whore?”

Kylo was ready to charge as Armitage pulled a pistol on him.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he warned, “The king wants you alive to stand trial.”

“For treason,” Kylo spat.

“Oh, no,” Armitage darkly chuckled, “but you’ll learn soon enough.”

“Where’s Kira?”

“She’s on her way back home. I’m guessing in the morning she’ll be aboard a ship to be delivered safely back to her husband. Don’t worry. The king still has a soft spot for her, but for you… you better hope it’s a quick death.”

Childbirth was never meant to be easy. She had heard to tales told by her mother, aunts and cousins of the pain she would be in. Kira ached as was told over and over again to push. She was so hot and exhausted. Not even a day back and they were already ordering her around. She was done with pushing. She wanted to give up. What was the point on having this child if her husband was not here? She felt Maz’s grasp as she rubbed her back.

“Just one more,” her nurse whispered. So, Kira did and soon there was a round a cheers from the women around her as the baby wailed. She was dizzy, the world seemed to muffle around her as she fell back against her pillows.

“There’s so much blood.”

“Quick get the medic!”

“Hang on, your majesty.”

The trial came to a hold when word got to the king that his wife had delivered a son. Armitage watched as Kylo’s face riddled with so many emotions as Poe left his throne to see to the queen.

“Wait, let me see him,” the artist beg as grabbed the king’s leg, “Your majesty, do what you want with me, but let me see my son.”

“Scum like you don’t deserve pity,” Poe spat as he slapped him across the face, “Send him to the tower!”

Armitage smirked as Kylo continued to beg for the king to have mercy on he and his son.

“You’re too content with these turns of events,” the lady with silk dark locks said as she dressed herself.

“The queen is in a state of unconscious,” Armitage chuckled as he tried to pull his lover back into bed, “She produced a bastard. Her name will be driven into the ground as a harlot despite the allegations of rape. Poe could only exile her if he wishes to show mercy.”

“You know little of his heart,” the woman continued as she walked over to her vanity, “He still loves them both and will follow through with Kylo’s wishes.”

“What do you mean both?” he scoffed, “The king has never shown affection towards a woman before.”

The woman smirked as her brown eyes met his green ones through the mirror.

“Blinded by your own spite, you did not see the affect the young queen had on her husband. Nor do you see the affect she has on you,” she laughed, “I was sure you would have strangled her the moment you had a chance. Yet, you provided her with such comforts on her trip back and punished one of your men for being too rough with her when you saw the rope burns.”

Armitage got up from the bed ready to smack the woman but something in her eyes gave him great pause.

“Strike me and you’ll been known as the bastard that you are.”

So he glowered as he balled his fist to his sides.

“So then what must I do to assure my legacy?” he asked.

Poe stared at the baby in the cradle sleeping soundly next to his mother. He could hear her whimpering in her sleep from time to time, but the child remain undisturbed. She had been able to bring life into this world, it just was not with him. Why did it have to be another man? Why couldn’t she had just been happy with him? He knew the rape and kidnapping charges were false. He knew long ago that the artist had fallen madly in love with her. He had caught her once or twice leaving Kylo’s chambers or the artist leaving hers. He heard the sweet nothings they would whisper to each other in foreign languages he didn’t understand. He had seen the way Kylo would stare as soon as Kira entered a room. It was as if the world had gone still in that moment. _He_ _should_ _have_ _just_ _let_ _them_ _go_. It hurt though. It hurt so much to know that her happiness was with other man and that he had never favored the king. He shouldn’t had allowed himself to become so blinded by his envy and foolishness to mistake these signs as just a simple affair.

Now the evidence was sleeping in a cradle that was made for a child that would never be his. 

“I’m sorry you suffered,” he said softly, “but I am not a man who will share.”

“Your majesty,” came Armitage’s voice from behind him, “what are you doing here? Where is the nurse?”

“I sent her to fetch milk for the baby,” the king explained, “He hasn’t been feed properly. I figured I could help.”

“It’s unseemly for a king to do a maid’s work,” the lord said as he stood next to him, “Please, you haven’t slept in quite sometime.”

“Kylo...” they heard the queen murmured as she slowly woke. Poe rushed to her side and helped her up. 

“My love,” he said as the lord glared, “Armitage, the baby, quickly.”

He looked down at the little worm, but did as he was told. He watched as Poe opened Kira’s shift. The king supported the queen as the baby nursed. Poe’s eyes lit up the moment he saw the baby latch onto his mother. What a wonderful sight to see? Never had he witness something as beautiful as this.

“Kylo...” she murmured again.

“Shh... that monster will never harm you again,” he assured her.

“No... not a monster,” she answered, “Please... it’s my fault.”

“Nonsense... you’re still ill,” Poe kissed her temple. 

“Please... for me... let him go...”

Armitage could see Poe contemplating his decision after he had try to pleasure him. Poe was irritable and pushed him aside when he tried to console him. 

“I know what I have to do,” the king said as he walked to his window, staring out at the tower he had locked the artist in. 

“Revoking your decision would be a sign of weakness,” the lord argued, “he is a criminal and should punished for what he did.”

“And what of Kira and her son? I am still king!” he bellowed before calming himself, “I’ve made up my mind. I will take the boy as my heir and send Kira and Kylo as exiles to Germany. At least then, I’ll know she would be happy. She’ll have to content with that.”

_You know what you have to do. Everything is out of your hands if you do nothing..._

Kira slowly woke, feeling her more conscious of her surroundings. However the room was too quiet. Why was the room so quiet? When her eyes started to focus, she waked to a horror she never wanted to see. 

“What have you done?” she gasped as she saw Lord Hux dangling the limp body of her baby into a burlap bag, “What have you done?!”

She found the strengths to lunge at him as he drop the bag and baby to the floor to defend himself. She lost her footing as he tried grabbed the body and tossed it into the bag.

“Bâtard!” Kira cries as bit his hand. The lord cried out before slapping her across the face. 

“Meddlesome bitch,” he snapped before picking up and pillow. He straddled her waist as she tried to swing at him. 

“Meurtrier! Bâtard! Je vais te tuer!” She tried to wriggle her way out from him, but his weight was too much as a pillow was pressed into her face. Her screams muffled as she continued to fight. It was no used though as the world around her got darker and less coherent. The last thought she could remember was of wrapping her hands around Armitage Hux’s throat. 

Armitage ran from the castle with the burlap bag in hand. There would soon be chaos and outrage, but now, he had to get to Bazine to complete what she needed to do. Deep into the forest he ran as far as he could go to fine her sitting near a fire under a dead apple tree. 

“I see you are not the coward I thought you were,” she chuckled, “You’ve done more than what is asked over you.”

“Here. I did what was asked of me,” he said tossing the bag at her feet.

When she opened the bag, her eyes lit up. Pulling the baby’s body out of the bag, she giggled with delight before taking it over to a stump where a knife waited. Armitage looked away as he heard to breaking of bones, almost disturb with how peaceful she was. She sang in a language he did not understand. She squealed with delight when she found the heart.

“Oh, what a nice and delicious one,” Bazine said as she pulled it out of the baby.

Armitage watched as she swallow the heart whole. His stomach was unsettled by this and he turned to throw up. He heard her laugh behind.

“What’s the matter, my lord? Squeamish over a little blood?” she asked as she tossed the baby’s body into the fire. She continued to speak in tongues as the flames grew higher. With a chalice in hand, she walked over to the lord. Grabbing him by his scalp, she forced his mouth open and made him drink the fowl liquid. He struggled, but found she was much stronger that what she looked. He swallowed as much as he could before he felt his body began to twitch violently. His eyes rolled to that back of his head as he began choking. He had no control as he hit the dirt ground, trying to gasp for air. Bazine’s hair, eyes, and skin began to change, as if she was going through a metamorphose. However that didn’t matter to Armitage, because he was dying. He had been tricked by this woman.

He woke in his room with the sound of his wife sobbing as he felt himself ache all over. He felt different. He slowly got up from his bed and walked to his mirror to find himself. He still had red hair, green eyes and pale skin, but there was something different. Perhaps it was all in his head, but he felt like a completely different person. The door to his room opened and a maid screamed.

“My lady! Come quick!”

Margaret as plump and round as ever came barreling through, passed the maid to find her husband standing before her.

“Oh thank God,” she said as she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, “I thought I had lost you. After the queen’s and her baby dying, I thought for sure this kingdom was cursed when they found you floating down the river.”

“Floating?” Armitage repeated. _Perhaps what he had was a terrible nightmare._

“Yes, but it’s a miracle! One minute your were puffy and swollen and now… Oh… I have to lay down…”

Armitage was left alone till he heard a whisper in his ear.

“ _You’ve done so well… soon you’ll know what is to become of you… We’re not done yet…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... I hated writing this chapter. I can understand if you want to skip it, because it was hard. I'm not one for sad stories, but it was necessary in order for me to explain how at least one of my characters is able to live for such a long time and perhaps show more of the lengths another will go to make sure he is still around. May need to work out a few kinks, but I'll make sure the next chapters aren't as angsts filled. Thanks again for all your support. Over 300 kudos now and I hope to get it to 400 before I'm done. Nearing 7000 hits in a matter of days and it's incredible. Thanks to Lucifee, Brizeeboo, Zombie_Queen, FlawlessGuiltyPleasure and N for your comments. It really means the world to me that you guys are still enjoying this story. Till next time.


	28. Je T'aime

**New Orleans 1868**

Viola tried not to show Clyde too much favor, afraid that it might draw suspicion to the secret love affair they had started. However Clyde was the complete opposite of that as he brought her flowers every day and wasn’t afraid to kiss her when others were in the room. Amilyn smiled knowingly as Strawberry giggled when the young woman scolded him for being too forward. They knew very well of the heated romance that had started between the pair. Jimmy even started calling her sister from time to time. Still, it was nice having a warm body in her bed at night and being woken by soft kisses on her neck. However it was the wondering eyes of Mallory that had her worried. She would see her cook look longingly at her farm hand and showed him more favor by allowing him to taste her pies or giving him larger portions. She could help but glare anytime Mallory would place a hand on his shoulder, arm or chest.   
****

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” Armitage laughed as he got himself a drink of water, “It would be best for you to look the other way.”

Viola glared before kicking the bucket that had the fresh water, spilling it to the ground and splashing his trousers and boots.

“Whoops, sorry,” she feigned, “Looks like you’ll need more water. Mallory, fetch some more water for the men.”

“What about Strawberry?” her cook hissed.

“You expect me to send a pregnant woman to draw water from the well? Have a heart and make yourself useful,” she said before turning on her heels and making her way back into the house.

She could hear Clyde’s soft chuckle as the screen door closed behind her. 

**London 2018**

Nathan would consider himself a simple man. He took pleasure in reading a good book, seeing a movie, or running in the park before dawn broke. However his whole perspective on life changed when he met Caleb. The tall red head was charming, very well spoken compared to the rough New Yorker who wasn’t after to go toe-to-toe with a man twice his size. Despite being polar opposites, the two men ended up getting along very well. Caleb seemed always find ways to challenge and make Nathan do more than what he was doing. So when he told him about Mr. Tarkin and the kind of money he could make through curating painting, he kissed his bar job goodbye and went back to school to learn as much as he could about art. His new friend paid for everything, surprisingly being a man of great wealth and in return for getting his degree, Caleb would reward him with new cars, a home, a life full of luxuries. He even help aid him in experimentation with his sexuality with a different woman or man in his bed almost every night. Sometimes it was just him and Caleb in the throes of passion were he would sometimes whispers his admiration for the man he was with. The gentleman would just kiss his brow before they’d fall asleep.   
****

It wasn’t till one autumn afternoon, his life nearly changed when he ran into a woman with chestnut locks and big, hazel eyes. She was leaving a coffeeshop he liked to visit a lot, spilled her entire order all over his new coat.

“I’m so terrible sorry,” she said with her posh accent striking a cord with him. He watched as she frantically tried to clean the mess.

“No, it’s my fault,” he answered, kneeling to help her with all of the cups and food. Their eyes met and a sense of familiarity washed over him. Like a wave crashing into him, he had felt some remembrance from this woman. She was far too young to be someone he went to school with and judging by her accent, there was no way she had ever been in the states. He offered her a small smile as she just froze.

“Please, let me buy you another,” Nathan offered.

“That won’t be necessary,” the woman insisted as she gathered up the trash and threw it away, “Sorry about the coat, but I have to go.”

“Wait,” he said, grabbing her wrist, “can’t we just talk or something? What’s the rush, sweetheart?”

“Please let me go,” she replied timidly, “I’m already late,” she reached into her satchel , pulled out her wallet and handed him some banknotes, “For dry-cleaning.”

Before Nathan could get another word out, she had made a break from it. Nearly running into traffic to get to other side of the road to get as far away from him as possible.

Nathan recounted the event to Caleb as they ate dinner. He listened intently with a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“It was just this sudden rush,” Nathan explained with his mouth full of steak, “I don’t know how to say it, but… I think I might want her…”

“Would you like to have her, my sweet?” the red head man asked as he sipped his wine.

“Would you get jealous?”

“No. In fact, I think it’s time I tell you something…”

**Hollywood 1955**

Emerson was starting to look more and more like Toby with his unruly thick, dark locks, height and minor stubble, while Zelda was nearly the spitting image of Rosanna. He was grateful that his daughter preferred to take after Mary rather his wife, but Rosanna had different plans for them. As part of family of Hollywood, the children were expected to follow in the same line of business at their parents. They were enrolled in schools of the arts and other private lessons.   
****

Emerson and Zelda had dancing, singing, acting, and etiquette lessons, polishing them for a grand lifestyle, though Toby strongly disapproved of it. So, through the week they would suffer with these classes and after school practice, Toby made it an effort to sneak them off for the weekend to that yellow house in Malibu, where they were expected to act like trained monkeys. There, they could act like children and play with their younger brother, Galen, and Mary would be just as radiate as ever. She doted on his kids, complementing their works and enjoying their entertainment. They would often teach Galen knew songs, and though he was horrible out of tune, they loved his company the most.

When they had gone to bed, Toby took his time with Mary, reacquainting himself with her ageless body. He enjoyed her soft whimpers as he would drive himself into her or amazed by herself as she sat astride on him. He loved her so much. He wanted to be hers and only hers, to be true honest with her.

“Marry me,” he whispered to her one night, “Please…”

“Shhh… mon amour,” she sighed as she reach climax and they fell asleep in each others arms.

It did bother him, seeing the grey in his hair and the wrinkles that had slowly formed while she looked the same as she did the first time he met. She still had so much energy to keep up with the kids as he would sit back in his chair and watched them play along the shore. How is a woman like her manage to stay so flawless? Clearly it had to be good genetics and would feel bad for Emerson and Zelda when they would see their younger sibling age effortlessly.

The baby had red hair, an obvious sign, but Toby choose to ignore it. Emerson and Zelda didn’t seem to mind their new sister and Caleb had since disappeared from the moment it was publicly announced Rosanna was having another child. The couple faked their thrill and excitement to the press as a way to keep any infidelity reports getting out. Toby had other things on his mind, such as splitting his time between his Hollywood family and trying to keep the press from knowing about his secret love child. Mary still refused to buckle on her stance that he should still be with a woman he hardly sees anymore, but at least in the time he could be in the small Malibu home with his children and her, he was able to stop the whispers that buzzed around in his head.

“Opal,” Mary had replied, “You named her after a gem?”

“Rosanna didn’t bother giving a name to her,” Toby said as he drank his coffee, “So, I filled out the form for her. Opal Kira Mary Grisoni.”

The nanny blushed.

“Where did Kira come from?” she asked.

“You like to talk in your sleep, so I just happened to hear you say it. It stuck in my head for a while,” he answered, meeting her gaze, “A lot of things just kind of stick in my head… Kira…”

**London 2019**

Rey shouldn’t be meeting with him. It felt wrong, but Nathan wanted to talk. She should give him that. He is just an innocent bystander that just happened to get tangled up in the mess. So, she went to the coffee shop where they had first met by chance to find the man who was an echo of her husband. When she looked at him, he didn’t have to same eye-catching demeanor. Instead, he was just very plain with a swagger that was more relaxed than the struck Poe Dameron was known for. He smiled, his face light up as she approached and offered her a cup of coffee.  
****

“I’m not entirely sure what you would like,” Nathan said as she took the cup, “I hope I did all right.”

She was a bit wry, but Caleb was no where near, so she took a sip of the caffeinated liquid.

“You look amazing,” he said breathless, “Truly you haven’t aged a bit. It’s incredible.”

“It’s a nightmare,” Rey replied looking around the streets, “A lot of this was country roads and you could see the sky, but now it looks more and more dull with each passing day.”

“I think I remember this road. I would ride out here with my men to check on the land and the people.”

Rey raised an eyebrow. “What do you remember?”

“Not a whole lot really,” he chuckled, “It comes and goes from time to time, but sometimes I just look outside my window and I feel like I’m back at the bleak castle, watching from afar as my wife picks flowers from her garden. They become more vivid when I’m around you.”

“Then why couldn’t you tell the difference between the fake and the real portrait?”

“That I can’t explain,” Nathan replied finishing up his coffee, “However, I do mean when I say I want to make things right again, Kira.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Rey grieved, “Much like the other names I had before, each have died whenever he has died.”“You mean Kylo?” She nodded.

“So I give myself a new name anytime I see him, because just like no two are the same, I have changed as well. Maybe not in age, but I’m not the meek, French girl who came to the English courts.”

**New Orleans 1868**

“Clyde, not tonight,” Viola said against his lips.  
****

“Yes, tonight, Pumpkin,” he replied, kissing her before pulling her along, “It’s such a warm night that we had to.”

She laughed the entire way as they ran deep into the marsh. Clyde hold found a spot where the river was not too fast and deep. He felt it was time to teach her to swim. 

“Clyde, someone might see,” she giggled as they came upon the bank.

“I’ve seen you naked before,” he winked as he toed off his boots, “ain’t nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Clyde,” she tried to think of the right words, but was easily distracted by his broad chest and strong arms. Without any shame he pulled off his trousers and turned to make his way to water, giving her the best view of that _peachy_ bottom of his.

“Come on, Viola!” he called as he slowly sank into the water, tuning around to meet her gaze, “The water is fine.”

She really shouldn’t, but the way the moon glowed around him made him look almost heavenly.  Slowly she unbuttoned the front of her dress. Next was her pantaloon and finally her stocking and boots till she bare in front of him. She watched as Clyde’s eyes scanned over her body as if he was looking at her for the first time. Maybe it was the haze of the summer heat that made her mind so foggy or perhaps it was the lustful gaze he held. Whatever it was, Viola didn’t want to keep him waiting. She slowly made her way into the cool water, nearly losing her footing as he reached out to catch her.

“Easy there, pumpkin,” he said, pulling her flush against him, “We don’t need you getting swept away again.”

“That’s why you’re here,” Viola teased as she ran her hands over his chest, enjoying the solidness of him, tracing bumps, moles and scars. He smirked as his hand gripped her waist tighter before leaning down and kissing her soundly.

“Come on. It’s time you learn to swim.”

For what seemed like hours, Clyde helped Viola get strong at treading, kicking and strokes. Soon swimming turned into splashing then into a chase where Clyde tossed her over his shoulder, making her scream as he walked them back to shore. Closer in the shallow end, he laid her on the bank, capturing her lips. He lightly nibbled on her bottom lip as he wedged himself between her legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, as she giggled. His hand slipped between her legs and played with clit. She keened against his lips as he continued to whispers sweet nothings.

“I can’t believe you want me, this deformed man,” he rubbed his cock against her slick sex, “I don’t desire someone as amazing as you.”

Viola’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as he sunk into her.

“God, how did I get this lucky,” Clyde continued as he softly thrusted into her, “I want you.”

“You have me,” she sighed, “Tu m’as. Je suis à vous.”

“Je t’aime,” he whispered, making her shiver under him as she came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A happier chapter after that mess of a chapter. I want to thank everyone who has been supporting me. I love this story so much and I'm glad everyone else is. Okay... back to my den... bye....


	29. Zelda Part II

**Hollywood 1960**

“Again,” the dance instructor said. Zelda took a deep breath and began her tap route once more.  
 ****

“Smile, child! At least act like you’re having fun.” She hated this. She hated the strict diet, the makeup routes, and the auditions. The auditions were the worst, but Mother said she had star potential like her and if that pleased her then, she would do it.

“No! No! No!” the dance instructor shout, “Kick, ball change, kick, TURN and then leap.”

“Sorry, Miss Reese,” the young girl apologized as her classmates snickered.

“You need more than just a name if you want to go places, girl,” the older woman spat, “and if can’t do the job, don’t waste my time! Out of my studio! Don’t come back till you have that routine right!”

“Overweight cow,” Zelda murmured under her breath as she left the studio. She changed out of her leotard and tap shoes in a form fitting green dress with a pleated skirt. She undid the bun she had it up and allowed her gold locks unravel. After she fixed her lipstick, she headed out the door with her bag over her shoulder as she dug through her purse to find some change. She hoped Daddy would be in a better mood after his meeting with the executives for his latest project. When she got to the payphone and dialed the number of office, she noticed a hand push down on the switch. She was ready to slam the phone into whatever punk did that, but was swept up into a kiss before she could get mad.

“Miss me?” chuckled the young boy as she slapped his chest.

“Greg Patterson, you nearly scared me,” she answered, before shoving him back, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to watch you and then, when I saw you leaving, I figured I’d come say hi.”

“You know you’re not supposed to be here,” she warned, tugging on his arm as they made a run from the gate, “If my father found out...”

“He won’t,” the young man chuckled as he helped her into his T-Bird, “come on, let’s get some food in your belly.”

Greg had to be the most handsome boy she ever met. With thick, chocolate locks, soft grey eyes and a smolder that would make any heart melt, he was a star in the making after his debut as Romeo in their high school play. Zelda was an understudy for Juliet, which didn’t stop him from wanting to spend extra time with the Hollywood princess. Her mother did not approve of the match and her father was a bit wry of his childish charm, but Mary seemed to see him for what he was. _“It’s not everyday you meet a man who can sweep you off your feet,”_ her maman had told her. So, she took a leap of faith and turns out everyday she spent with him was an adventure. 

However with her new schedule and Greg soon making his big television debut, it had been harder and harder for the two of them to find time to spend together. That didn’t stop him though. He found time to sneak her away from lessons, take her on picnics or to the movies where it could be them. Zelda honestly couldn’t understand why a guy like Greg would bother to get tangled up with a girl like her and the melodrama that was her life, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. He pulled into her driveway where her older brother just seemed to have gotten him from the studio. Emerson was working under a composer as he had his small briefcase filled with music sheets and other notes. He didn’t mind Greg, but he felt his sister could always do better. 

“I’ll catch you later, Greg,” she said sweetly, kissing him on the cheek. 

“Hey, maybe come down to the soda fountain tonight. It’ll be a real swinger,” he smirked, “I’ll be there and I want the best dancer with me.”

“She has plans,” Emerson answered for her, “but I’m sure she’ll make it up to you, Patterson.”

“Please, Greg is fine, Amadeus,” the young man chuckled. 

“Come along, Zelda. We don’t want Mother know you came home with him,” her older brother warned. She wished Greg goodnight as she followed after Emerson. 

“You didn’t have to be so rude,” she snapped as she made he way upstairs. 

“I went to pick you up only to find that you were dismissed early. Why was that?”

“You’re not my parent.”

“Still, at least tell me why so we can come up with a good story. Mother is having her hair done today, so she might be in a better mood.”

She bit the inside of her cheek as she contemplated what to say. Emerson had always been the protective brother. He had been in her corner when she was first set home early from a vocal lesson, because she wasn’t hitting all the notes, aiding her when Mother had too much to drink. He seemed to have a way to defuse the situation, finding better phrasing on how Zelda would do better. She was going to be a star after all... and she hated it. 

“I wasn’t looking like I was having fun,” she simply said continuing up the stairs as Emerson followed, “I was going to call Daddy and see if he would send a cab to pick me up, then Greg just showed up.”

Her brother raised an eyebrow. 

“We didn’t do anything,” she sneered and he smirked. 

“Except make out in his T-Bird.”

“We do not make out!”

“Oh sure,” he chuckled, “Your blouse is buttoned wrong.”

“Emmy!” came a small cheer as a girl with red curls came barreling out of her room and into Emerson’s arms.”

“Hey sweet cakes, did you know your sister is a little harlot?”

“I hate you,” Zelda glared before slamming the door to her room. 

Dinner was quiet as always. Only the sound of forks and knives against plates filled the air as their father seemed to always be looking over new scripts and their mother stared coldly at him from across the table. It wasn’t until she finished her glass of wine that she brought everyone’s attention to her. 

“So, Mrs. Fisher is finally retiring which means little Opal is going to need a new nanny,” their mother said, “and you know who I thought would be great? Mary Debenham.”

Their father nearly choked as his brandy as he finally looked at his wife. 

“Rosanna... we talked about this...”

“It been what... 13-14 years? And I remember how much you two loved her, right my children?” Emerson and Zelda nodded but were very concerned about as their father seemed ready to reach over and strike their mother at any moment. 

“And you’ve been so loyal to me, have you not?” Her voice held a sort of tease that Zelda knew too well. It was that sweetness that was meant to draw you in before she told you everything that was wrong with you. She would make you feel like you did something wrong even if you stood perfectly still. 

“Yes, dear,” he lied. 

“Good, because she’ll be here tomorrow.”

It was an awkward sight to see her mother welcoming their old nanny with open arms. Zelda watched from the stairs as her mother inspected Galen. She was grateful that her half-brother took after his mother, but knew is hers looked too close, she would see the remanence of her father’s sin. Then it came to Opal’s introduction to Mary. She held her breath knowing the temperament she had. That was the main reason Mrs. Fisher retired so suddenly. She had call her sister a beast who hated naps and carrots more than anything. Getting down to her level, Mary smiled. She offered sweet words to the child, only for her to be sneered at and be brushed aside for her son instead. Zelda must have been seeing things, but it almost seemed like her mother enjoyed Mary being given the cold shoulder. 

Nearly a month in and Opal was giving Mary a run for her money. She pouted, whined and cried every time she didn’t get her way. Bedtime was a struggle in itself as Zelda could hear the cries of her sister complaining about not being treated like her older siblings. 

“Why can’t I go to the party?!” the red headed child cried, “I want to eat cake and dance! I want to play games! Why?! Why?! Why?!”

“Fille bestiale,” Galen said under his breath, earning a soft chuckle from his older brother, “Seriously, how do you guys stand it?”

“Ear plugs,” Emerson said. 

“Loud music,” Zelda chimed in as she looked over her dress. 

“Where is your father?” their mother asked as she lit a cigarette, “We’re fifteen minutes late.”

“I’ll go find him,” Zelda volunteered, heading up the stairs, thinking he might be in his study, only to find him in her younger sister’s bedroom. He was helping Mary with Opal, calming her from her fussing sister. The red headed child was finally asleep in her plush, pink bed as he hugged the nanny from behind.

“Sound asleep, he sighed before he started kissing her neck.

“You better get going,” Mary said as she started to make her way to the adjacent nursery.

“Mary, don’t be like this,” her father followed behind her as she started picking up toys, “Let’s just talk.”

“And what have the same thing happen to us all over again? Think about Galen, Emerson and Zelda. They have to pretend like they’ve never seen each other before, keeping their distance from each. And you… They’ll be waiting for you down stairs.”

“Mary,” he held her waist, turning her so she was facing him, and captured her lips softly, the way he always did when ever she was stressed or worked up, “this isn’t what I wanted for. I never wanted you back in this house, but at least having you here is keeping me more sane. And now Galen is able to finally be around kids his own age. Pay no mind to Rosanna. If she does anything to you or Galen, don’t think I won’t be there to stop her.”

“Toby…”

Zelda cleared her throat, breaking the two of them apart.

“Umm… Mother wanted me to tell you that we’re running a little late,” she said meekly.

“She’s just upset that she’s missing the cocktail hour,” he grumble, “Tell her I’ll be down in a minute.”

The party was terrible. Zelda was passed around from executives to casting directors to actors as she was expected to charm them, in hopes to be the right girl for any movie. However Emerson or her father would interject if any men got too friendly. However, she did enjoy spending quality time with him as her whispered funny jokes or just slow danced with her. Emerson would often step into conversations she would be having with other girls from her school, sometimes to flirt or scowl, depending who was chatting with. For the most part Zelda was never alone with her brother and father constantly as her shadow. She could hear her mother drunkenly hissing at them for not giving Zelda her space to work the room.

Her father just simply replied, “I don’t want her to end up like you.” That earned a loud slap across his face, before he forcibly grabbed his wife by the arm to have a private talk. Emerson and Zelda had often heard second hand about the rumors that swirled around their parent. Seldomly do they allow their argue seep into the public, but when it did, the eyes always seemed to look towards the children. The whispers were always about how there could be such a toxic family environment for their 5 year old. Emerson pulled Zelda to the side to get her a drink, so she didn’t have to worry about what would be happening in the garden of the estate home. Another producer approach her to pitch a movie to her as her brother stood close.

Soon it was just her in a corner alone, rolling and massaging her foot as she watched her brother dancing with a beautiful red head.

“No chaperone,” came a playful voice in her ear, “Someone might take advantage of you.”

“Greg, stop sneaking up on me,” she hissed as he helped her out of her chair.

“I’ve been wanting to sneak you away all night, but your dad looked ready to tackle me at any chance,” the young man chuckled as their noses bumped, “How about a little dance before we leave these stiffs behind?”

“I can’t leave,” she giggled as he captured her lips, “My parents will be looking for me.”

“Don’t worry. I know how important your virtue is,” Greg smirked as he took her waist and they shuffled towards the dance floor.

Zelda could be lost in those stunning grey eyes all night. With wit and charm, there was never a dull moment with Greg. Slowly her worries seemed to fade into the background and it was just them. It reminded her of those summers in Malibu when she would spy on her father and Mary just enjoying each others’ company on the love seat, occasional lost in just words or kisses. Her fingers grazed the hair at the base of his neck as he smiled down at her.

“Pink is my favorite color you know,” he said as he nodded at her dress, “especially on you.”

“Mr. Patterson, you flatter me.”

“Is it working, Miss Grisoni?”

_Maybe, but I can’t let him know that._

“What angle are you working?” Zelda asked as she raised an eyebrow, “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard you used that line on other girls.”

“No angle,” he defended, “Never with you.”

“Why not?”

“You’re not like other girls, Zelda Grisoni.”

“I’m not?”

“No.”

“And why is that?”

“I’m going to marry you.”

“Zelda!” She jumped when she heard her father’s booming voice, “Get your coat, we’re leaving.”

Their mother did not come home with them. There were movers the following morning to remove any of her valuables or any sign of her. She was to scrubbed clean from the mansion as their father was on the phone with his lawyer to start the divorce process. Mary took the children out for the day to distract them from the mess that was happening, especially with Opal being so young. So to a museum they went as Galen pointed out different artist to his young half-sister while Emerson took his time read the plaques. Zelda seemed to be lost in a daze from what happened from the night before. Greg’s promise still rung through her head as if he had said them to her a thousand times before.

“I’ve always love Renoir,” Mary said, making the girl jump, “Sorry, mon poussin. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, Maman,” Zelda shook, “It’s fine. I just feel lost.”

“What do you mean lost, my darling?” the nanny asked as they sat down on a bench.

“It’s just… everything… My father is kicking my mother out… Emerson doesn’t seem phased by it and Galen is just doting on Opal better than any of us and me… I feel like I might go insane.”

“Oh, ma douce,” Mary pulled her close and rubbed her back, “you’ve always had such a caring heart. I remember how worried Toby was when we were going to introduce you two to Galen. I knew you take to him right away. And your parents… well… no matter how much I tried to help.”

“But then you and Father can finally be together,” Zelda nearly exclaimed, “No more do you two have to hide. Now we won’t have an embarrassment for a mother. Maman, this is a dream come true… And Greg…”

“Greg, ma douce?”

“He wants to marry me.”

“Zelda, you’re too young.”

“Well of course I won’t marry him right away,” she laughed as she stood, “but he said he was going to, just like my father said to you. That must mean something.”

“Do you love him, mon poussin?” the nanny asked with concern in her eyes.

“More than anyone,” she replied dreamily, “He just makes me feel wanted. No one ever made me feel that way, except you. Oh please, Maman. When Father asks you to marry him, please don’t reject him. He loves you so much.”

Mary blushed as she raised to her feet and walked over to the painting of the coupling dance. Zelda watched as her nanny looked over the painting.

“Look at the composition of this piece. No matter where you look, your eyes are automatically drawn to the woman. Her white dress and red bonnet are just eye catching that you can’t look away,” Mary explained, “Is that how you see me and your father, ma douce?”

The girl nodded.

Mary and Galen had moved from the guest house to the mansion. Emerson gladly gave up his room for his younger brother as Zelda helped him organized his book shelf. From the corner of her eye, she could see her father wildly chase Mary into their master bedroom in a fit of chuckles.

“I don’t imagine they’ll be leaving from there anytime soon,” the eldest teased as Galen gagged.

“Come on,” Zelda snickered, “I think it’s sweet.”

“They’re acting like a couple of teenagers,” he sneered, “Répugnant.”

“Répugnant,” Opal parroted as her sibling applauded her.

She didn’t seemed to be phased at all by the change. In fact, her mood has completely changed since Rosanna has left. From fits and tempers to calm and collective over night was a pleasant and welcomed surprise. She even hung around Galen more, learning French phrases that would often get him in trouble for teaching her. Still, their home was more lively. Emerson played piano every night as Galen would read to Opal. Zelda found herself more and more in the kitchen with Mary helping with meals and being able to talk to her about her problems. Never judged for her decision to quit her dance lessons and being able to go on more dates with Greg was a breath of fresh air she needed. At night, she would spy her father nibbling on Mary’s ear with his body pressed closed against hers in a suggestive way, when he thought no one was watching. It was nice to be in a home where plates weren’t being smashed and threats being thrown. Galen would often complain about how he could hear their frequent love session through his bedroom wall, but Zelda wouldn’t have it any other way. For the first time, their home felt like a home.

From the banister, Zelda watched as her father cupped Mary’s face, kissing her sweetly, whispering sweet nothings to her.

“The divorce has been finalize,” he said in a dark timbre, his nose bumping against hers, “Which means I can do something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.”

She softly gasped as her father got down on one knee, holding her hand as he pulled out a black velvet box. Galen looked over Zelda’s shoulder as Emerson joined them while Opal squeezed between them.

“Mary Debenham, mon amour, will you marry me?” 

“Say yes!” Opal cried as Zelda covered her mouth.

The nanny laughed softly, wiping the stray tears from her face as she nodded.

“Oui, beau brun,” Mary whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sweet chapter before more angst to come and it is coming. I am so sorry, but here, enjoy these tender "Reylo" moments while I prepare to cry as well. I honestly enjoy writing these sugary sweet chapters more than the hurtful ones. Thanks again to all of you who write me reviews and leave kudos. Special thanks to Luciefee for helping me with my French. It means so much to me that you all are still finding enjoyment in this. Welcome all new readers. Thanks for the 7000 hits and the nearly 350 kudos. Hoping to reach 400 before I finish this story, but we'll see. Till next time.


	30. Return

**London 2019**

Sometime had been off about Rey lately. With the group getting ready for the showing in a month, she had been distant, almost lost in a daze. She was just going through the motions, which made Ben worried. He pulled her aside, into a spare room where he could talk to her.

“Ben, I’m fine,” she feigned.

“Rey, please. Don’t be like this. Is it about the exhibit? If you’re not comfortable talking to people about Kylo Ren’s work, you don’t have to.”

“It’s not that. Really, I’m fine.” He didn’t like how distant she was being. Her phone buzzed and she looked at the screen.

“Umm… I need to take this…” She left him there, stunned. It wasn’t like her to keep secrets, was it? They had come so far. Had it been him or could it…

“She’s been awfully friendly with Mr. Issacs lately,” Kaydel had said as she took a break from typing her synopsis, “Last time I saw them, they were hanging out at that hipster coffeeshop. They were very close from what I saw.”

“But just talking, right?” Ben asked for reassurance and the blonde just shrugged. 

He shouldn’t be concerned, but he watch closely as Nathan over saw the hanging of each painting and Rey stood next to him to assist. He wanted to see if there was any closeness between the two. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Rey. He didn’t trust Nathan, with the way he looked her. It made his stomach knot the way the Hispanic New Yorker smiled at any comment she made about how the painting should be hung. He didn’t like how close he was to her, even if they did seem two feet apart, he shouldn’t be that close. Then he heard them laughing and that just sent him over the edge. He needed to leave. If he stayed in that gallery, it would have been too much.

**New Orleans 1868**

Viola raised an eyebrow when she saw the puppy.  
 ****

“No,” she firmly said and began making her way to the hen house.

“Ah, come on, Pumpkin,” Clyde chimed as he carried the black mutt that had been dumped on her property.

“I said no, Clyde. We already have a cat and two other dogs,” she added as she gathered her eggs.

“But he’d be a good hunting dog. Those rats only chase other rats,” he said as he brought the puppy closer to his face, giving it a voice, “Pwease Miss Eade. I won’t takes ups much rooms.”

“But he will, Clyde,” she shoved passed him with her basket.

“There’s plenty of land.”

“He’ll dig up my garden.”

“Not if ya train him. Beside how can you say no to this face.”

“Well, she couldn’t say no to you,” chimed in Armitage as he walked with his shovel in hand, “Give the pup to me and I’ll find it a new home.”

The puppy began to growl and bark when the Irish man reached for it. Viola looked over the dog once more. With a droopy face and ears, she felt her heart slightly soften. She picked the puppy from Clyde’s arms and carried it towards the house with her eyes.

“Where are you taking him?” he asked.

“Going to give the mutt a bath,” she answered.

**Bamberg 1984**   
****

“Harder,” Daisy whimpered as Adam grunted in respond. His hips snapped with ease as his partner slowly start to unravel beneath him. With her legs over pushed up to her chest, her hand frantically stroking her clit, her nippled ripe for plucking with his teeth, and the blindfold over her eyes, Adam couldn’t help but drive deeper into her. _God… she’s so hot… I don’t know how I got this lucky…_  
 ****

“Oui… Ah… presque là…” A clear liquid trickled out of her and onto the sheets as her body convulse under him. He let out a dark chuckle before pulling out and painting her stomach and chest with his spent. With her lips parted to release a soft cry, Adam leaned forward to capture her lips.

“C'était sexy,” he whispered as she let out a laugh.

“Your accent is horrible,” she teased and her turned her over to give her a firm smack on her round bottom.

“Give me some credit, Daz. At least I’m trying,” he said as he massaged the cheek that was red with his hand print, “I really like the blindfold,” he slowly spread her legs apart, “I like being able to tease in ways you can’t see,” he took the discarded bottle of lube from the floor and squirted some in his hand before rubbing it in the clef of her ass, “Keep you guessing on what I’ll do next.”

“Adam, I don’t think…”

“Shhh… trust me,” he whispered into her neck before kissing her poppy tattoo.

**London 2019**

Ben eyed his portrait in the foyer of the grand home. Rey’s lovely face just staring right back him. He couldn’t stop the pounding of his heart as he looked at the pigment. Every stroke of his brush was reflected in the way she came alive on the canvas. She wanted him to paint her and now it hung in a man’s home like it was meant to part of his private collection. _She shouldn’t be here. She should be safe and sound. Away from this man and in your arms. Only you should have the opportunity to look up her beauty…_    
 ****

“Mr. Solo,” Mr. Tarkin spoke, calling him away from the piece with an ice stare and chilly smile to match, “to what do I owe you the pleasure?”

“I just wanted to talk,” he simple said as the older man ushered him into his study. Ben was in awe of his vast collection. Raw antiques from all over the world, ranging from deep time periods. However that portrait of the French woman gave him great pause. There was something familiar about the light brown trestles, shimmer eyes and playful smile. He suddenly felt nervous.

“You recognize her don’t you,” the older man said, “What about her is intriguing?”

“I’m…” he cleared his throat, “I’m not sure.”

“I always liked her smile,” Tarkin said, “This had to be a hard one to come by and to get it restored was not cheap. Madame Maryam Lebeau, a French heiress who fell in love with a German merchant. He sold her on a stories of great adventures only to be let down to live the rest of her life in the farm lands of Bamberg.”

“You make it sound tragic,” Ben added as Mr. Tarkin offered him a drink. 

“Not really tragic, because she was met with some fortune. A soothsayer of some sort came to visit her looking for a place to stay. In exchange the fortune teller would tell her her son’s future, to which she did just to humor them. The soothsayer looked into the boy’s eyes and saw that he would live for many generations, but at a major price.”

Suddenly Ben’s head began to buzz with different voices. 

_Get out of there._

_Lass ihn dich nicht bekommen._

_O Pai Celestial nos ajuda._

_Don’t let him get._

Ben dropped his glass as the voices got louder.

_What the hell are you doing?_

_Komm da raus!_

_Saia agora!_

He crumbled to the ground and shouted in pain. It hurt too much. They just got louder as older man stepped closer.

_Get up!_

_Fight!_

_Corre!_

_Gehen!_

He smiled down at Ben as he convulsed on the floor. His vision fading in and out as the room seemed to get to bright all of a sudden. Why did his head hurt so much?

_Idiot! Why aren’t you running?_

_Come on kid._

“Kylo Ren,” Tarkin said.

**New Orleans 1868**

If Viola could pick one part of Clyde she loved the most, it would have to be his mouth. The way it fit around her sex as he softly kissed it was incredible. Her toes curled into the sheets as her fingers would run through his hair while he took his time between her legs. He was always more lethargic with his love making. It felt like he was discovering something new about her body. His laid back nature seeped into each session and she always felt weightless afterwards. She gasped softly when his nose bumped against her clit as his tongue lazily drew figure eights.  
 ****

Suddenly there was a scratching at her door followed by muffled whimpers making Clyde hesitate.

“Clyde.”

“Shh… just ignore it, Pumpkin,” he said and went back to her sex before the scratching got louder and puppy barked.

“He knows you’re in here,” Viola stated, tugging lightly on his thick locks, “I thought he was staying outside tonight with the others.”

“He was and then he gave me this look… so I made him a little bed where Jimmy and I sleep, figured there would be no harm. Then you give me that look at dinner and…”

The scratching got even louder as the puppy started howling. Viola bounded from the bed to the door and grabbed the black puppy by the scruff.

“You know there are other people in this house,” she scolded only for the black pup to lick her nose. She rolled her eyes before cradling the pup like a baby, bringing it over to the bed her and Clyde were sharing.

“He’s not so bad. Ain’t ya, Blackberry?” Clyde ruffled the pup’s head, earning kisses from it.

“Tell that Amilyn after he chewed through her shoes,” she said as she placed the pup at the end of the bed. Clyde went in for a kiss, but Viola turned over before he could. “Good night, Mr. Logan,” she yawned as the pup wriggled its way into her arms.

**London 2019**

The young man stopped twitching. He squinted through the pair of glasses and removed them. He looked over his body in confusion. It felt like his body, but the clothes were different. The room he was in was very different from the mundane abbey walls. It was more elegant, rich with vibrant colors and finer things. Then he spotted her portrait.

“That’s my mother… Where did you find it? I thought I had lost it…” Then he turned to the older man with the howl face, “You…”

“Fortune does shine on you today, Kylo Ren,” the man said, “You should be thanking me.”

Kylo head still hurt. Perhaps he shouldn’t have had so much wine the other night.

“I don’t understand. Where am I exactly?”

“In my home of course, giving you and those other boys a second chance.”

“A second chance at what?”

“What year do you think it is, Master Ren?”

“1590.” The older man smirked.

“Welcome to the 21st century.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short chapter, but let's get the ball rolling again. Hope you like the twist. I'm working on the finale chapter so this story has a conclusion, but this story is no where near done. I feel if I write an ending then, it'll make me finish this story. Thanks again for all your support. I'm glad that there are still so many of you still enjoying this. Thank you for the nearly 7500 hits. This is amazing. I've over the moon. Thanks Luciefee, Zombie_Queen, N, helloimindelaware, Oh_Snapcrackle, missblack2011, Brizeeboo, Fang73, and Halliwell19 for your comments. If there is anyone I missed shouting out, thank you as well. Come back for the next chapter.


	31. Pay the Toll

**London 2019**

Rey was concerned when Ben had not been at the gallery to over see the final touches. He wasn’t answering his phone calls and Gwen even said she hadn’t seen him all day. Unsure of what to do, she decided to go to his apartment. Perhaps maybe he wasn’t feeling well. He could be nervous at the unveiling of this expansive project. She tried his cell one more time before she unlocked the door to his apartment. She heard a loud shout, followed by a smash. There were German curse words that came through the door afterwards that made her hesitate. Ben didn’t speak German. Reaching into her bag for a can of mace, she slowly entered the apartment. Everything seemed to be in place, excepted for the smell of burnt fish and books that were opened to various pages. She found his cellphone outside his bedroom door, the screen shattered as if someone threw it. There were clothes everywhere as she found Ben naked in his room, sitting on a stool, mumbling to himself as he painted on a new canvas.  
 ****

“Ben,” she said softly, making him stop and turn towards her. He looked stunned to see her, putting down the paint brush and slowly approaching her. She was frighten by the confused look he had in his eyes as his hand came up to cup her face. He reached behind her head and undid the ponytail she had, letting her hair cascade around her face. His thumb ran across her bottom lip as he leaned in closer.

“Meine Mohnblume,” he whispered before kissing her. It was the kind of kiss she hadn’t received in a long time. The way he held her waist, pulling her flush against his naked form took her back to her time in the castle, where they would hide in dark rooms to express their love. He tugged at her coat and pulled off her shirt, confused by the bra she had on, but she helped him with the rest of her clothes. She discarded the bra, pants and underwear before taking his lips once more. He hoisted her up and carried her to the waiting bed. She was intoxicated by his kisses that she hardly noticed him stroking himself to full erection. His mouth on her nipple was riveting. Her body arched just so as he suckled on her nipple.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured before taking her other one as her fingers ran through his locks, “You feel so real. Mein Schatz. So weich. So göttlich. Christus.”

He settled his head between her legs to lap up her slick like it was nectar. She mewled when she felt him nip at the inside of her thigh before lifting himself up and preparing to enter her. She was at a lost for words when she looked at the man above her. She saw Ben Solo, but through the facade she saw her past lover seeping through the cracks. The way he moved was in strict determination to fill her, to remind her of who he truly was. The jealous lover who hated how the king would bed her and just leave her to writher alone. He whispered her forgotten name into her skin as if tattooing it on her brain, to remind of who she truly was.

“Kira… Kira… Kira…” he grunted softly with every thrust of his hip. In his shadow, she thought she saw the bristles of his goatee and mustache, his long, wavy hair and the scars he had told her about long again. She didn’t look away as if she was afraid that this was too good to be true, watching his eyes slowly close as he kissed her once more.

“How are you still this tight? This warm? I must have finally made it to heaven,” he sighed before nibbling on her shoulder, pulling himself closer so there was no space between them, his pelvis rubbing her clit the right way.

“Kylo,” she moaned, “Mon diable. Mon cher. Mon amour. Revenu d'entre les morts. Ça ne peut pas être.”

“Oui,” he groaned, “I can’t... oh God...”

“Please,” she answered as she felt his spent inside of her. Her toes curled and her spine stiffened as she followed afterwards. She nearly forgot how to breath at that moment as he wavered, trying not to crush her with his weight. He took her waist and rolled over on his back so she laid on his chest as they caught their breath. He held her close, softly stroking her hair and kissing the top of her. 

“Oh mon coquelicot,” her lover whispered, “I can’t believe this... I thought for sure... when I saw you...”

“Shhh...” Rey hushed him and kissed him, “don’t think about the past. It’ll only hurt more.”

“How have you been able to just keep going?” he asked. 

“I had hope that maybe one day we would find each other.”

**London 1570**

It had been two weeks since he was locked away in that tower, and Kylo has yet to receive any word about Kira and his son. He looked down at his bloody and bruised knuckles, scared from punching the brick wall of his cell. He was so angry and tired. How dare that weasel point a pistol at him. He could have taken him before he had a chance to fire. He would have ridden to the castle gate and take on anyone who dared challenge him so he and his beloved could be together. Now, he was in a drafty cage with only a small window to the world outside. Perhaps he’ll die here, in this miserable state.   
 ****

“What a tragedy,” came an eery voice, “Once a celebrated painter, now locked away for a crime he didn’t commit.”

He looked around his cell and saw no one. He got up from his cot and looked through the bars of his cell to find no one standing in the hall. 

“And they don’t have the decency to tell what happened to your son or your lover,” the voice said, “They just expect you to suffer in the dark.”

“Who taunts?!” Kylo cried out, “Show yourself!”

He turned to find cloaked figure sitting on his cot. The cell suddenly got colder and the world outside seemed to go silent.

“I can tell you what happened to them,” the figure spoke, “Ease your pain and worry or maybe to elongate your suffering. Whatever is the case, the choice is up to you.”

“You know what has happened to Kira and my son? Tell me now, before I strangle you.”

“Violence will be your downfall. So quick to temper and to find blame anywhere but yourself,” the figure continued, “If you hadn’t come, none of this would have happened. You would be a simple painter making living on the streets of Bamberg where life was much easier for you. Blinded by your greed and lust, you have allowed yourself to weaver and now your lover and son pay the price for your sins.”

“Don’t speak in riddles! Answer me! What has happened to Kira?!”

“Dead. Her life snuffed out of her by a man who was envious of her.” Kylo gripped the wall for balance. He felt like he was going to be sick.

“The king?”

“Lord Hux.”

Kylo slowly slid to the floor as he felt the tears roll down his cheek.

“And my son?”

“Suffered the same fate as well. Taken before he could enjoy the splendors of life.”

Kylo cursed to himself as he sniffle pathetically. He bit into his fist as he pound into the wall behind. This was not how it was supposed to happen. They were to be content with their life in Paris and Hux... the sniveling weasel took it all away. If he ever got the chance, he’ll gladly watch his life drain from him with his hand tighten around his throat. 

“You wish to seek revenge on those who’ve harmed you?” the figure said, “It will come at a cost.”

“What do you mean?”

“We can save your beloved and allow you your revenge, but it will come at a cost.”

“What kind of cost?”

“Your memories,” the figure simply said, “Your love will live and you’ll get a chance to take your revenge, but your memories will suffer. You’ll live many lifetimes some longer than others, but you’ll never know who she is. She’ll be a ghost to you, a familiarity that will be at the tip of you mind, but will get lost in the confusion. You’ll get to start anew till the time comes to settle your debt. Will you do it? Shake my hand and we have a deal.”

Kylo looked at the skeleton-like hand. To lose his memories of her would be a great risk, but if that that meant she would be alive, would that be for the greater good? She would be able to find him and they could start their lives all over again. She would have no strings to tie her down and if they were able to fall in love once, who’s to say that they wouldn’t again. Without a second thought he took the hand and felt something rip from his mind. 

“For now your memories are still intact. When you see her next, you’ll be stunned by her ageless beauty. She’ll live and you will die until the fates switches it. When the debt is finally paid, your memories will be restored.”

Kylo woke sore as a guard nudged him with his foot to wake him. He rolled over to find the king standing over him with a grime look. Dressed in black, he bowed his head. 

“Kira is gone. She died giving birth to your son,” Poe said as Kylo looked up at him, “The child died moments after his mother. We buried them this morning... I’m so sorry.”

“Get out,” he grumbled and spat at the king’s feet, “You could have let us go.”

“Kylo, what good would it have done me to let her go?”

“We had a life. We were fine and then you ruined everything. Now because of you, she is dead… My son is dead. And you’ll go back to that pathetic excuse of a man, express your woes, and he’ll feed you the lies you want to hear. That there was nothing else for you to do.”

He stood tall, overlooking Poe as his guards ready to act. His expression dark as he watch the king waver slightly. The bob of his Adam’s apple told him he was nervous. Good. He cupped the king’s face and kissed him before whispering in his ear.

“Möge die Schuld in Ihrem Herzen schmoren, dass Sie niemals Frieden finden, auch nicht im Tod.”

A guard punched him in the stomach, making buckle as he drew his sword to strike.

“No,” the king commanded, “Leave this rat to suffer.”

Kylo was locked in his cell once more as the king walked away. He went to the bars and began to yell.

“Blood of two innocences are on your hands as well! How can you stand by when there is a murder in you court?! If I don’t kill you, he will!”

**London 2019**

Rey was amazed at how much food he could put away. He wanted to try everything the Chinese buffet had to offer, staking up his sixth plate after he got his seventh.  
 ****

“These dumplings are divine,” he groaned after he took another bite and offered her one. She refuse as she worked on her fried rice.

“Kylo… umm… you never explained to me how it is possible that you’re here,” she said as he slurped his soup. Truly 500 years also makes you forget basic manners.

“All I remember is just suddenly waking up,” he answers as he bit into an egg roll, “That Tarkin fellow, scary looking man, said it was time to fulfill a debt, but I honestly couldn’t tell you what debt he means.”

“You don’t think it has anything to do with Hux or Bazine, do you?”

He paused. Furrowing his brow for a moment before shaking his head. She slumped back in her chair as she let out a huge sigh. The waiter came by to refill their cups as Kylo took her hand.

“Mon coquelicot,” his soft voice made her meet his gaze, those eyes that she knew too well, “what matters is that we are finally together. No king nor lord or witch could ever take that from us.”

He kissed her knuckles as her heart leapt. Perhaps she should stop worrying, however, she couldn’t seem to get rid of this nagging feeling that something was wrong.

In the stillness of the apartment, Rey smiled contently as Kylo counted the bones of her ribs. She looked up at him with adoration as he ran his fingers through her hair. 

“Your hair is so short,” he said.

“It’s better to mange.”

“But it was so beautiful as it would cascade over your body and the red...”

“Faded over time. Trust me, I don’t miss it.”

Kylo softly chuckled before pulling her closer. His eyes looked over her face as he tucked her hair behind her ear. He then cupped her chin and kissed her. All in that moment was right with the world. Balance had been restored and Rey could finally fall into a dreamless sleep where she knew he would be there to greet her.

From across the city, Kaydel had felt the pulse of change vibrate through her body. She was not ready for this as she knocked on the door to the large manor. The housekeeper let her in as she paced the foyer. 

“What brings you here, my child?” Tarkin asked as he ascended down the stairs.

“You… what did you do?”

“Set into motion what needed to happen. A debt is needed to be paid.”

“But I had him. If you had just…”

“You never had him, Bazine, and that idiot you choose to be your lackey couldn’t even do his job properly.”

She felt something squeezing her heart as she was losing air to breath.

“Your time is up. You wanted what was never going to be yours because of your spiteful heart,” he said as she fell to the floor, trying to gasp for air, “Pathetic. At least with Hux, he still has the bloodlust to do what needs to be done. No more killing babies and children to keep your youth.”

“Snoke… please… give me… one… more… chance…”

The older man knelt down to where the woman was slowly withering away.

“And what will you give me?”

“The girl… I’ll give you… her…”

“Glad you finally understand.”

With a gasp of air, Kaydel was brought back to life. She slowly got up from the floor and made her way over to a mirror. She looked herself over to make sure everything was still in place. The older man walked behind her. 

“How vain of you to worry about something as trivial as youth,” he took her face to make look at his gnarled, scarred face, making her stare into his gold eyes, “Vanity will be your downfall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this kind of make sense? I really hope it does, because this is where I want to take it. If not then I'll have to double back and try to fix what has been lost. Ugh... Thank you once again to all of my supporters, new and old. Welcome new readers! Please leave your comments. I do read them even if I don't respond right away. I'm working on the final chapter while also writing new ones so that way this has a clear ending. Have a great evening. I'll see you next time.


	32. Kylo Ren

**London 1565**

Kylo Ren knew he was in love the moment he looked into those sparkling, hazel eyes. Cupid’s arrow pierced his heart with one arrow when he kissed her hand. Had he known of the queen’s beauty, he would have refused the commission sooner. No beauty is worth losing your life over. From his time in the castle, he observed her from afar, fearing that if he looked upon her directly, the king would swiftly take his life and he needed this job. He had been living off of scraps for far too long and the chambers they had provided, were too good to give up.   
 ****

So, instead he decide to entertain the women of the court and allowed himself to get close to the king. If he can win favor with him, then the world will look at him with favor. However, it did not pass him that the queen would look upon him with envy or if he met her gaze, would see the sudden fear she had for him. 

“She thinks you are a warlock,” Poe laughed as his lover, Armitage, served them wine, “The child has this vivid imagination that you can posses people’s soul.”

“What wonder would bring that about?” Kylo asked. 

“I could not tell you,” the king responded. 

“She often favors fairytales,” the hand of the king answered, “Her nurse will often entertain the ladies with stories of dragons, monsters, and nymphs.”

“But what wit!” Poe boasted, “She can be in a room filled with men and hold her own without any question. And so smart.”

“Yet, she thinks me a warlock?”

“The queen is very young, but with the proper training, she will be a great symbol to the people,” Armitage said, “A vision of hope, if you will.” 

Kylo pondered this as the red head gentleman took his place next to the king. It was odd to see men close like lovers, but surely he has had his fill with his beautiful wife. 

“I’ve noticed the queen is jealous that Herr Hux holds such a candle to you, you majesty,” he noted, “I’m sure she must be a fine lover as well.”

“Oh no, she’s not.”

“She’s not?”

“Ha... truly no queen is as beautiful as mine, but as a lover, I wouldn’t know,” he laughed as he kissed his lover’s neck.

Puzzled by this, Kylo chose to ask around. While entertaining a few of the ladies of the court, they let him know how lowly they thought of their queen. 

“Thinner than a rod.”

“She almost looks like a boy in a dress.”

“Perhaps she is one, considering the king.”

“I don’t understand the fascination with her.”

“It’s only because she’s French that the court loves her.”

“Why do you care so much, Master Ren?” Bazine had asked one night after he had sketched her. 

“Is it wrong for me to know my subject?” he teased as he assisted her with her robe, “You ladies seem to assume I’m out to woo her.”

“Perhaps you are seeing she is still a virgin,” the lady said as she ate a grape. 

“A virgin? Surely you jest?”

“No, everyone in the kingdom knows who the king lays with,” she laughed as she drew him close, “He’ll never sire an heir at the rate he’s going.”

**New Orleans 1868**

It had been a harsh winter, however that didn’t stop the new life from being born. Amilyn held Strawberry, dabbing her brow as Viola aided her. Sleeved rolled up, she told her to breathe.  
 ****

“Misses it hurts,” she keened.

“I know, but soon it’ll be over and you’ll be holding your baby soon,” Viola assured her, “Now you’re going to start pushing, okay? Take a deep breath, hold it, and push. Squeeze Amilyn’s hand if you need to.”

The young, dark skin woman did as she was as Viola waited to catch the baby.

“Oh, I see the head, you’re nearly there, my sweet. Un de plus,” she encouraged and the young woman pushed again. Soon there was loud cry as Viola did her best to wipe down the baby.

“Amilyn, go get Bigwig. Tell him, his son is here,” she commanded as she help Strawberry hold her baby, “Mind his head.”

She watched as the new mother fell in love with her son. A twinge of jealous pulsed through her as Strawberry softly cooed at her son. She gasped when the baby reached for her finger and grasped onto it, as if a sign of recognition to his mother. Viola tried not to let the tears seep as Bigwig came barging into his cabin with Jimmy, Clyde and Blackberry not far behind.

“Close the door, you idiots!” Amilyn scolded as she shooed the grown pup outside. It whimpered softly at the door, but stopped once the older woman glared at him. Viola gathered the messy sheets to clean later as Bigwig joined his wife on the bed. It was a humbling sight to see as father nervously held his son for the first time. Clyde wrapped an arm around Viola and kissed her cheek.

“That could be us one day,” he whispered as she giggled.

“Maybe,” she replied as they watched the small family start anew.

**London 1565**

So, Kylo finally chose not to distant his interest anymore. Any eye contact he made, he held till he saw the color on her cheek. With the ladies, he would use them as props to let her know how he could hold her, caress her, and kiss her. While walking the grounds, he would see her sitting from her window, staring off into the distance. He would sketch her, to capture the longing ness she held in her gaze. He wished to seduce her. If she knew what love could truly feel like, then maybe she would not look so sorrowful. However, Kylo was not ready to meet her wraith as when he meant to jest earned him slap across the face.

“How dare?!” Kira growled, “I am your queen and you’ll show me the respect that I deserve. I am an equal to the king and no one is above me!”

From that slap, it set his heart aflame. How he wished to throw her against the wall of the library and smother her with his lips. He longed to have her mind, body, and soul. To have her in his bed, writhing into nothing would be a sight to see. In his many walks around the castle, he found a handkerchief with her initials embroidered on it. He kept it as his owe, using her scent as a well to help him with release. He tried to impress her with flowers and letters, hoping for some glimmer of hope. Yet, the queen chose to stay away from him. 

She put Lord Wexley soon in his way and that infuriated him so. Though the ladies tried to calm him, he would not see any of them. No matter how many countless nights they would beg at his door, he was only consumed with thoughts of the queen. She was stealing his sleep as he would dream of those captivating eyes and her beauty French accent. When he couldn’t take the distance anymore, he threw himself at her. Stealing a kiss would be worth losing his head.

What shocked him the most was when she returned it. Kira relaxed his body, fitting perfectly as if God had made them for each other. He could see the planets had aligned for them. Everything felt so pure at that moment. He cursed himself for not saving himself for. Then when she rejected him, it was like his heart had been ripped from his chest. 

To aid him from the pain, he allowed Bazine to see him. Her kiss was not the same. Her body did not mold to his the same. Her soft whimpers were not the same. No matter how hard she tried, he could not find satisfaction. He had tasted richest of the rich and nothing would be able to top that. 

**Malibu 1960**   
****

A small wedding was all she wanted. Just a minister and the kids at the beach house they would visit every summer. He thanked the priest for coming on such short notice. Emerson and Galen were to be his best men, Zelda maid of honor and little Opal the flower girl. Toby wanted everything to be perfect. He helped Galen with his tie as they smoke cigars together. With his first marriage, he wasn’t nervous at all. Perhaps some part of him knew that power couples like him and Rosanna don’t last very long. However Mary was different. She loved his kids as if they were her own, gave him a son, and asked nothing but for him to love her as much as she loved him. That’s what made him nervous. The fact that he was pushing 40 and she still looked like she was in her early 20s. What if someone else came along that made her look the other way? What if his grays made him too old for her? His worries must have shown as Emerson placed a loving hand on his father’s shoulder.  
 ****

“Dad, relax,” he said with a lopsided smile that matched his, “She’s crazy about you. It’s not like this isn’t your first rodeo.”

Galen began to cough after inhaling too much smoke and looked like he was going to be sick. Emerson aided him with a glass of water as Zelda came downstairs. Dressed in a simple blue, summer dress, Toby was in awe of the young woman she was becoming.

“Wow, Zelda.”

“You look swell, Daddy,” she said as she hugged him and kissed his cheek, “I’m so happy for you and Maman. Wait till you see her.”

“See her? Have you looked at yourself? It feels like yesterday you were hugging at my leg.”

She smiled, blushing slightly as her brothers return, Galen was still a little pale, but was holding strong.

“Sorry about that, Papa,” he said as Emerson nudged him.

“Don’t worry about it, Puce,” the older brother teased, “Maybe with that you’ll finally get some hair on your chest.”

“Tête de noeud,” Galen grumbled. 

Opal soon followed, leaving flower petals in her wake as Mary ascended down the staircase in a simple white dress. Toby was awestruck as Emerson helped him close his mouth. The perfect definition of a blushing bride as she stood in front of him. Vows were exchanged, rings were placed and a kiss was sealed. After some a hot meal and some cake, Emerson carried a sleeping Opal as Zelda hugged Mary and Toby. 

“It still feels like a dream,” she expressed, “I’m so happy for you two.”

“Just try not to get into too much trouble while we’re gone,” Toby said. 

“No promising,” Galen replies as his sister playful slapped his arm. 

Soon the house was quiet as Mary and Toby finished cleaning up the dishes and put away the food. He hugged her from behind, kissing her neck and whispering in her ear. 

“It’s just us now,” he smirked, running his hands along the length of her body. 

“What you’ve always wanted,” she answered as she turned around to face him. 

“Maybe I’m quite ready for a fully quiet life with you,” he chuckled before capturing her lips, “Thank you for giving me what I’ve always wanted.”

**London 1565**

He never expected Lord Wexley to help him with anything, but he had expressed how much heart ache the queen was feeling having to prove her loyalty to her husband. A husband was expecting to take his wife’s virginity, however, Kira had been anxious about the whole thing. Knowing where her heart truly laid made him feel lightheaded. Lord Wexley aided him through a secret passage that lead her chambers. After thanking him, the Scotsman stopped him before he had a chance to enter the room.  
 ****

“Don’t make me out to be a fool,” he warned, “If any more harm comes to her because of you, I’ll see to it that you’ll be eating your own testicles. I’ll come collect you before dawn breaks. ”

Kylo nodded, hesitant from the warning as the huntsman left him to his own devices. When he entered, he heard her soft whimpers as if she was crying. His heart ached to hear these sounds as he slowly made his way towards her bed. He watched her stiffen as he sat next to her, reached out and rubbed her back.

“Mon coquelicot,” he said as she turned to face him. She threw herself at him and kissed him. In that moment, he knew what he had to do. Soon skin blended into skin. Their breathing was suddenly becoming one. In that moment, he had delved into something that he knew he could never walk away from. To hear her whisper his name like a soft prayer that rang deep in his soul. The flame of their love burned so bright that night that he was sure the heavens could see. 

In the silence of the room, Kylo watched as she slept on his chest. He took in each lash, freckle and detail. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay in this moment, but as Lord Wexley knocked on the secret door, he felt Kira stir. 

“Kylo...”

“Shhh...” he stroked her hair, “I’m afraid it is time for me to go.”

“No, I won’t allow it,” she whined, straddling his waist and pinning his hands above his head. He was impressed by this sudden strength. 

“My love, I hate this as much as you, but I’m afraid your husband would not like to find his wife with another man.”

“He’s been unfaithful since the beginning,” she whispered as she kissed his jaw and neck, “it wouldn’t hurt for him to have a taste of his own medicine.”

“Tempting, but still I am not a man worth losing your titles over.”

“I would throw away the crown if I could...” A confession he never thought he would hear. 

“Kylo,” hissed Lord Wexley, “her nurse will be here any moment. It’s time to go.”

He quickly grabbed his clothes as Kira threw on a robe to follow him to the secret passage. 

“When shall I see you again?” she asked as he caught her sparkling eyes. 

“Soon, mon coquelicot,” and with one final kiss, he disappeared.

**London 2019**

“You’re Ben Solo,” Rey explained as she helped him with his tie, “You and Gwendoline Phasma have been working on this restoration project for nearly 5 months and are funded by Wilhuff Tarkin. Your additional helpers are Finn Storm, Rose Tico, and Kaydel Connix.”  
 ****

“And you,” he smirked, “You actually took command under this Ben Solo? Got your hands dirty?”

He pulled her close as his hands wondered over the bodice of her formal dress.

“It seem so unseemly for you to be in a gown where other men can look upon your legs and bosom,” Kylo murmured against her lips, “Maybe I should help you change.”

“Kylo,” she giggled as he kissed her, “Please, we’re already late as it is and the cab will be here any minute.”

“You make it sound like a challenge.”

Her phone buzzed to alert her that their ride was here. 

In the back of the car, Kylo could barely keep his hands to himself. He would reach between her legs to play with her sex or try to pull at the dress to pluck at her nipple, using his large body to block the driver’s view. It was almost like he couldn’t get enough of her. Once or twice she had to find the strength to get him to stop, but was too weak to deny the pleasure of his wide, long fingers inside of her. Grinding against his palm, she frantically tried to find release before they reach the gallery. He chuckled in her ear as he told how lovely she looked when she was coming undone. He hiked up her skirt more to look at his handy work, smiling that the shine on his fingers before undoing his pants and replacing his hand with his throbbing cock. Rey refused to be quiet as she gripped his coat for purchase as they slide along the backseat. She was sure she could see the annoyed driver’s face as he glared at them in the rearview mirror, but she didn’t care.

_Look at us making love. The world wanted us to hid it, but now you will look with envy. Our love is pure and strong. Nothing will ever tear us apart again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Kylo Ren chapter! Hello mister German artist. Perhaps the next chapter will be about him seeing all his art on display. Just have to wait and see. I figured a light hearted chapter would be nice considering how sad the past few have been. A wedding, a baby, and the love story through his eyes seemed appropriate. Thanks again for all of the support guys. Thanks for nearly 8000 hits and 350 kudos. Hope to get to 400 before I finish this, but we'll just have to wait and see. Thanks again everyone. Till next time.


	33. Zelda Part III

**Hollywood 1961**

Emerson wasn’t really the same since the night he found Father and Opal killed. The blood was everywhere as his father’s neck was sliced open. All that was left of Opal’s body was a charred skeleton. He had called police as soon as he could, but after that he was stunned mute. The mansion was taped off, and police provided Zelda, Galen and Mary to see what happened. Mary was inconsolable, weeping at the lost of her husband and step-daughter. Galen put on a brave face for her, though Zelda knew how much it hurt. The funereal was simple and quaint. Zelda read a eulogy, talking about the fun summer they would have in Malibu and the times they would sneak away for midnight snacks. It was hard to watch the caskets lower into the ground as Mary held the hands of Zelda and Galen. Squeezing them tightly before the embarked on the reception. It was such a strange concept to have a meal with “loved ones” after a funereal. Some many strangers telling you how they were sorry for your lost and talking about how they knew Toby. Zelda heard to murmurs of fright that the killers had not be identified. Others said they found it strange that Rosanna Ricci had flown out of the country the very night the murders were discovered. Still, Zelda worried about her maman and brothers and how it seemed like their sanities were barely being held together.

Greg had been a great support through these hard times. He helped with the cleaning and the sorting of things when Mary was finding it hard to leave the couch. 

She refused to go into the room where her husband’s body was found and at night, Zelda could hear the soft whimpers of her maman’s nightmares. She offered to stay with her in comfort, pushing two couches to form a small bed for the two of them.

When the mansion sold, Mary wanted to move closer to the asylum Emerson was in. Never talking, but he seemed to enjoy the company of his step-mother and siblings. He would play on the piano they had often sticking with Brahms or Mozart. He would often play the Moonlight Sonata as a way to ease whatever had been troubling him. For him and the remaining children, Mary chose to be strong. Though it was clear how much she was hurting from this lost, she would put on a brave face and carry on. 

Zelda chose not to go the college. Instead, she wanted her college fund to go to Galen when he would eventually go. She instead decided to fill in when Mary couldn’t, making sure her younger brother’s homework was done and letting him hang out with his friends after school. She helped Mary get out of bed when she felt like she couldn’t, helped her dress from time to time and offered her support whenever she needed it. Slowly, life seemed to pick up right where it left off as they fell into a routine to visit Emerson every weekend, having family meals and Zelda finally being able to date Greg again.

The pair went on a double date with Galen and his sweetheart, Julie Valentine, a pretty brunette who also spoke French. At the sock hop, Galen did the twist with his gal as Zelda and Greg looked on. 

“It’s good to see you out and about again,” he said as she nibbles on a fry, “Gal doesn’t seemed to phased.”

“He’s very brave,” she answered, “Maman seems to be doing better too. She goes to see Emerson more than we do.”

“What do you think he saw?”

“I don’t know... perhaps everything... I don’t want to think about that.”

Greg put his arm around her and held her close. 

At night, when she went to get a drink of water, she could feel a draft wafting through the kitchen. She noticed the back door was opened and went to investigate. There she found her maman in the middle of the backyard, huddled to the ground, whimpering to herself. 

“You’re not here. You’re not real. You can’t harm me,” she heard her say over and over again. Placing a hand on her shoulder, she was met with the tear struck face of her adoptive mother. 

“Zelda,” she sniffles and tried to compose herself, “What are you doing up this late?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” the girl asked as she helped her up from the ground and walked her back inside. 

“I’m sorry,” Mary half smiled, “just bad dreams.”

“Is it about father?”

“The detective called today saying that it’s a cold case...” her lower lip trembled, “said that they couldn’t find enough evidence to pin point a killer or find motive. And with your mother just vanishing...”

“Maman...” She watcher her will crumble as fresh tears fell from her face. 

“Just once, for once I would like for things to be right. None of these obstacles and I could have him... Kylo... Pourquoi m'as-tu quitté? Pourquoi est-ce toi et pas moi? Pourquoi ne pouvons-nous pas être ensemble?“

Zelda could hardly understand what Mary meant, but she pulled her close as she wept freely into nightgown.

 **Hollywood** **1965**

Galen wore his Berkeley sweater with pride as he posed for a picture with his mother and Zelda. As they walked around the campus, many seemed to be confused when he told them that Mary was his mother. She hardly looked old enough to be a mother of an 18 year old boy, but she paid them no mind as they helped him into his dorm room. While running to grab a drink of water, Zelda couldn’t help but get the feeling that she was being watched. Looking over her shoulder she saw a figure in a large trench coat, scarf and sunglasses staring at her. For a moment, she thought the figure was beckoning her, however when she turned back, the figure was gone.   
 ****

At the motel her and Mary were staying at, Zelda someone calling her. Not to disturb her maman, she left the room and followed the voice to where the pool was. The deck was empty except for one body that laid on a deck chair. From the lamp light, she could make out the silhouette of a woman.

“Hello,” she called to the figure and when she got closer she finally saw the younger version of her mother. Her hair more shiny and styled like the actress that she was, her figure tight and slender in the evening gown she wore, and her smile nearly white, did of the tar that had build up over time. 

“Mother?”

“Hello my pet,” Rosanna said, “Come closer so I can see you.”

Wry of what her eyes saw, she took a few steps forward, still keeping her distance from the woman, afraid of what might come. 

“Oh, look how grown up you are now,” she spoke as she stood up from the deck chair and circled her, “You almost look exactly like me. Of course you always had your father’s nose, an unfortunate trait, but could always be fixed.”

“What do you want?” Zelda asked sternly as she narrowed gaze, “Have you just come to taunt me?”

“No, I merely want to help you and Emerson. Rather tragic what happened to him,” Rosanna said as she pulled a cigarette out of thin air, “However, we can save him, bring him back to his normal self.”

She raised an eyebrow as her mother lit her cigarette with her thumb.

“What do you mean?”

“In a week’s time, the curse that Emerson will be broken, leading him to spill all those nasty secrets he’s holding in. However, he’ll be killed on point once he tells whomever he choses to let know of the crime that was committed,” Rosanna explained as she blew a puff of smoke revealing a figure similar to her older brother jumping from a high point, “He can be saved though, if you do this one task.”

Zelda held her breath as the smoke changed to her with a knife in her hand, stabbing Mary in the back.

“No…” she trembled, feeling sick at what her mother was asking of her.

“No? You would willing let your brother die to save a woman who destroyed your family?”

Zelda backed away as she crept on he closer. She felt the fence behind her as she was cornered. Rosanna’s eyes began to glow and in a flash of light, Zelda’s vision began to morph. She thought she heard the scream of her younger sister and the scuffle of two men wrestling. The pool water turned to red like blood as the young woman cowered in her mother’s gaze.

“You were always selfish. Only thinking of yourself and what you wanted. You can’t deny your heritage, girl,” she growled, gripping Zelda’s chin, “How she’s warped your mind to believe I never loved you. Your precious _maman_ would trade you to have your father back. She would gladly watch you die if it meant he’d return.”

Zelda squirmed, but her mother wouldn’t let her look away.

“She’ll forget about you, like she forgot about everyone, but you could save a life.”

“Stop… it hurts…” Zelda whimpered.

“The only thing she ever cared about him,” she hissed, “If she had this decision, she would gladly take your life.”

A ghostlike Mary formed in front of her, welding a dagger that glinted in the moonlight, ready to strike her.

“Zelda!” came her maman’s voice, breaking her from the trance she was in. She looked around her to find her mother had disappeared and the pool was still back to normal.

“Ma douce, what are you doing out here?” Mary pulled her trembling body close, covering her body in a blanket.

“Maman…” she sobbed, “She was here… taunting me… she… wanted me…”

“Shh… I’m here now… The whispers will disappear, now that I’m here…”

She rocked her as if Zelda was a child all over again. She felt like she was transcending back to her time in the yellow house in Malibu, as Mary would comfort her from any night terror. She was warm again as she looked into her maman’s eyes.

“Maman… would you trade my life for my father’s?” 

“Never,” she answered without any hesitation, “I love you more than my own life.”

Their visit to the asylum was different. Emerson seemed to be back to his normal self, chatting with a nurse in a flirting manner as he ate his custard.

“The food here sucks,” he said as he tossed away his tray, “What I wouldn’t kill for a burger. Just dripping in grease.”

“Perhaps you could bribe that jolie petite demoiselle,” Galen teased as they made their way towards the outside.

“It’s so good to see you like this again, mon cher,” Mary said as she took his hand, “What happened?”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you. I just woke up this morning and everything just made sense. The world is finally at peace and now I can tell you everything.”

Zelda felt a chill run down her body.

“Emmy, you don’t have to say anything,” she said as she pulled him back, “We can just walk…”

“You don’t want to know about the gruesome murders of our father and sister?” he asked with the family stopping in their tracks, “About how they suffocated our sister till her legs stopped kicking or how our mother sliced our father’s neck open?”

“Emerson…” Galen stared in horror.

“Caleb helped her too. Pressed the pillow into Opal’s face, tore her heart out for mother to eat, drained her blood to drink, and burned her corpse. Mother looked surprised when she saw me watching and took my speech.”

Mary’s eyes started to water as Emerson continued.

“She made me watch her as she took a knife and sliced Father’s neck, letting him bleed out till there was no color left on his face. She wanted me to kill Mary as an exchange for Opal’s and Father’s life,” he said as he pulled out a gun from his robe and pointed it at his younger brother.

“Emerson don’t!” Zelda screamed.

“I could have save them… One life for two…” he turned it toward him, “But I couldn’t… I was too weak to let them… I’m sorry, Zelda… I’m sorry, Galen… I’m sorry, Maman.”

Zelda covered Galen’s eyes as Mary tried to stop Emerson, but it was too late. With one pull of the trigger, Emerson had ended his life. His brain spilt all over the green grass as the orderlies rushed to the scene. How he got the gun, no one knew how, but that didn’t matter as Mary threw herself over his body.

“No… vous bâtards… vous meurtres… pas mon fils… mon garçon…” she cried as Zelda took Galen away from the scene.

_You should have taken the deal when you had the chance…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really hard to write. I cried a lot and wanted to put off publishing it till now. In order to progress the story, sometimes you just have to write painful chapters. I do want to thank all of you guys for sticking here this long. I may or may not write a happier chapter next, but we'll just have to see where this story takes me. Till next time.


	34. The Nanny

**Bamberg 1984**

She had a bat as she waited in the dark alleyway. She knew the route he was going to take to get back to the flat he shared with Daisy, because of the rain, he would seek the most cover. With one final drag of her cigarette, she snuffed it out as she heard him whistling. She gripped the base of the bat and waited for him to round the corner. One swing to the gut, he fell to his knees. A swing to his shoulder, he fell forward. Swing after swing, she didn’t relent until every bone in his body was broken. Every hit was for everything he had did. All the things he said to her, how he made her feel and then that French girl had to go and ruin everything. _Bastard! You were mine first!_ The blood ran down the alley as the thunder rolled in the distant. Dropping the bat, she walked to the nearest phone booth and dialed the police.  
****

“Hello, operated!” she said frantically, “There is a man left in the alley who doesn’t look like he might not make.”

**London 2019**

Rey went to the restroom to fix herself, hoping not to give off the fact of what happened in the back of the cab. Applying her lipstick, she almost didn’t notice Kaydel as she approached her right. She could almost feel her irritation radiating off of her. Rey couldn’t help but smirk.  
****

“You smell like a whore,” the blonde sneered.

“Really? I’m quite fond of his musk,” Rey answered as she turned to face her rival, “Face it Bazine, Kylo and I are meant to be.”

Kaydel snored.

“What good is a 16th century man in the modern world, Rey?” she asked, “I honestly can’t believe you left him on his own in a gallery featuring all his finest pieces. Don’t think he would react well.”

Rey didn’t think about that and made a dash for the door. Instead of finding chaos ensuing, she found him chatting up with Gwen and a few other colleagues in a very casual fashion. His laugh echoed through the hall till his met hers. He excused himself, smirking as he approached like a predator about take its prey. He swept her up into her arms and kissed her before leading her towards the dance floor.

“Kylo,” she whispered, “there are people that want to talk to you.”

“Later, my love,” he answered, his breath close to her ear, “for now, I want to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room.”

He was very light on his feet. Rey was almost surprised she had never danced with him before. In the castle, she had feared one dance would give away the affair, but here, she is not a queen. She’s just a young woman being lead around by an extraordinary man.

He knew how to charm a crowd and filled the role of expert painter very well. The people listened as he went into great detail about each piece. Rey was astonished with the man that was before her. So confident and sure of himself and his arm was never too far away from herself. Finally it came to talk about the long lost paintings the forgotten king and queen. He was slightly hesitant at first as his expression slightly darkened when he looked upon the portraits. The crowd waited on bated breath as Rey rubbed his arm.

“Kylo…”

“He shouldn’t be displayed,” he murmured, “after everything he did to you.”

“It’s fine, just talk about it…”

His jaw tighten as she took his hand.

“Kylo…”

He walked away, excusing himself as a need to get some air. Gwen took over and sent Rey go find _Ben_. Making her way out front, she was surprised to find him embracing an older man. When he pulled back from the embrace the man smiled as Kylo rubbed his shoulders, cupping his face in a loving manner as a father would to a son. Then he faced Rey and she suddenly realized that the man in Ben’s body had changed.

“Mary…”

**Hollywood 1946**

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to answer the agency’s request, but looking over the family photo, Mary Debenham couldn’t help herself. That witch had no right to even be around children, so she planned a clever disguise. She dyed her auburn locks to a dark brown after cutting them shorter. She styled it in such a way that would not be noticeable. She chose dresses that would compliment her figure, but gave her a motherly look. The head of the agency looked her over and raised an eyebrow when she listed the Grisoni residence as her number one request.  
****

“Mr. Grisoni is a big time director and his wife is an esteem actress,” the head lady said, “If you’re looking to make it into the pictures maybe you should try auditioning.”

“Oh please, Mrs. Applegate, I have no desire to be in the movies,” she said, “I only know that for such public figures, it must be hard for their children to be in a home with no one to tuck them in at night or to just simple entertain them. That’s why I’m willing to take up the challenge.”

The head pondered this over before  finally signing the form.

“You are on a week trial,” she said, “If the family finds some fault with you, you’ll be sent back for reassignment till we find you the right family.” 

When the cab rolled up to the exquisite mansion, Mary felt like she understood what it was like to be an outsider. She did not belong in this well kept gated community where everyone owned a Rolls Royce. However, she knew why she was here. If he fell in love with her, then he fell in love with her. For now, she was here to protect those children, young Emerson and Zelda, to provide them with a safe environment where they could feel love and acceptance.

Meeting them, Mary could feel her heart melting on site. Little Emerson was a boy replica of his father with a mess of black locks, large ears, and a charming smile. Zelda was a darling with her golden curls and an infectious laugh. Within the first moments of their interaction, Mary was taken by them. Emerson was bright as Zelda was playful. They wanted her to stay and she couldn’t be happier. Then came the time to meet their father, a handsome devil of a man with well kept locks and mustache and a charming smile. He was ever bit like the man she had fallen in love. She was nervous as he eyed her up and down, his eyes made her feel like he might be undressing her, but that wasn’t the case. Toby Grisoni was boasted for being a very respectful man who adored his wife and children. He only wanted to make sure she was a proper fit. At dinner that night, she still saw his eyes linger towards her from time to time as Emerson recounted the day and his mother, Rosanna, half listened. She paid no mind to Mary, but Mary knew what harm she could do. She would gladly lay her life down for these children if it meant taking her own. 

Whatever she had planned, Mary was going to find a way to stop her. 

**London 2019**

Galen seemed to have aged so much since Zelda’s passing, but his hazel eyes still sparkles with the mischief he always had as he and Toby recounted old stories over coffee. Rey was baffled by how things had changed so suddenly.   
****

“Wow, my boy a writer,” he chuckled, “I bet Emerson is green with envy.”

“You could say that,” Galen smiled before looking over at Rey, “You look lovely, Maman.”

“Merci, ma puce,” she answered, “You still never told us what brings you to London. I thought your doctor told you not to take any strenuous trips.”

“12 hours isn’t that bad,” he explained after sipping his coffee, “Beside, I want to see the exhibit you have been working so hard on.”

“You’re not missing much. Just a bunch of stiffs who think they know a thing or two about what they’re looking at. Man, a writer! What about Zelda and Opal?”

“Zelda married Greg Patterson and they had two daughters, Eliza and Emily,” Galen said without missing a beat, “and Opal is well off too. She does more behind-the-scenes stuff on film like costuming.”

Toby’s face lit up with pride as he pulled Rey close.

“Can you imagine a more perfect life for our kids, Mary?”

“I really couldn’t,” she answered as she eyed her son.

_Why would he lie about what happened to Opal and Emerson? Would it hurt too much to know that he is his only child left?_

She looked back at Toby as Galen handed him his phone to show him pictures of their granddaughters and their children. Eliza fell into acting, but never had much luck with keeping a husband and was on her 3rd divorce, each child being from a different father. Emily had just married her partner of 10 years and they just adopted a little boy. Toby smiled, satisfied to know that everyone was doing well.

“Toby, do you remember how you got here?” Rey asked.

“Last memory I have was in our Hollywood home where I thought I hear someone breaking in. Next thing I know… Galen has aged 50 years and I… I’m 28 again… and you look stunning as ever. Is this what they mean by second chance? Do I get to do over everything?”

**Hollywood 1946**

Perhaps she shouldn’t make such a big show about how her bathing suit might have been a bit too tight as she stretched the material that had bunched up in her butt. However, Toby’s hungry gaze was too much to pass up as he may be gripping his glass too tight. Mary knew he liked to watch her play with his kids. At times he would stop by the nursery to find Mary playing dragon or dinosaur as she chased Emerson and Zelda around the room. She felt his linger stare when she tucked them into bed and read them a story. His stare was the most obvious in the summer time, when Emerson was excited to splash around and Zelda was learning how to swim. She could feel his eyes trace along her legs, find the curve in her body and linger a bit too long on her breast. Then she would hear Rosanna’s shrilled voice calling his attention back to her and it would break the enchantment. Still, it was almost fun to be this seductive thing he could never have, like the shoe was on the other foot.   
****

Another thing she had noticed is that Toby and Rosanna don’t have sex. What cause them to stop, she’ll never know, but it was clear that any love that was there had not been there for a long time. Rosanna had allowed her vanity to cloud her judgement as she was often away to fix her hair and primp her looks. She didn’t have the attentive motherly instincts that came with most women, so her children always came second.

Due to her lack of work in the film industry, Rosanna would drink heavily at time, going on and on about how her husband wouldn’t hav a career if it weren’t for her. So, a few times, Mary would help her up the stairs when she was too far gone and tucked her into bed as she spewed hateful banter about her husband. Overall, Mary pitied the family she was with. It seemed at one point, Rosanna did love her children and husband, but due to the lack of demand for her, she had grown resentful. In the end, perhaps this was not the outcome she was hoping for.

After closing the door to the master bedroom, Mary made her way downstairs to find an exhausted Toby sitting on his coach with his eyes closed and his feet resting on the coffee table.

“I’m afraid Mrs. Ricci won’t be happy find scuff mark on her glass table,” she said and he groaned.

“Let her be unhappy, she’s good at that,” he mumbled, “I had a long day on set and I don’t want to be bothered.”

“Of course, Mr. Grisoni,” she answered and began walking towards the kitchen.

“Wait…” she stopped, “You can bother me though.”

She turned to find him standing slowly. Her breath caught when she saw his shirt was halfway unbuttoned, revealing his bare chest to her. He staggered over to the bar, pulled out two glasses, and pour his favorite brandy in each one. He held both glasses and bottled, then nodded for her to follow him. Back to the couch he sat and she chose to sit next to him, keeping her distance.

“This house doesn’t seem so grime since you’ve got here, Mary,” he said as he down his first glass, “The kids are more lively. My wife somewhat more tolerable. Everything is balanced.”

“Thank you, Mr. Grisoni,” she answered, “I’m flattered.”

“Mary, I told you can call me Toby,” he chuckled as he poured himself another glass, “It’s fine. My kids love you enough that I think first names are okay.”

“Right, Toby,” she said and watched him smirked.

“I love your little accent.”

“What accent?”

“That charming, posh accent,” he said after he down another glass and pour another one, “Where are you from originally? London? Kensington? Westminster?”

“Paris,” she said as she sipped her drink.

“Paris? That is the last place I would have thought of with a delicious accent like yours,” he chuckled before realizing what he said, “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”

“No, it’s fine. I just would have never describe my accent as delicious.”

“Then how would you describe it?” He suddenly got bolder as he closed the distance between them, “Warm? Tantalizing? Inviting?”

She could feel her cheeks color as he cornered her on the couch, nearly caging her in as his face was mere meters away from hers.

“Say my name again,” he commanded.

“Toby…”

“Again…” he caressed her cheek.

“Toby…”

“Once more,” he sighed as his eyes fluttered closed as his lips were dangerously close to hers.

“Toby…” She waited for him to close the distance, his hot breath still there, but something was stopping him. Perhaps it was the thought of having an affair with the nanny would bring shame onto his home.

“You... you should go...” he said pulling away, grabbing his brandy and glass and headed towards the staircase, “Goodnight, Mary. Thank you for everything you do.”

**London 2019**

Back at the gallery showing, Caleb sipped his champagne as he watched Nathan chat with the interns.  
****

“You know what happened, don’t you?” Kaydel asked as she stood next to him, “Snoke is unpleased with us and has chose to set things in motion.”

“It’s no concern to me what that old prick wants,” he grumbled.

“Yet, you knew the deal you took when you drank from the chalice,” she hissed, “If I go down, you will crumble with me. The same with him.”

She pointed at Nathan as he laughed with Finn over a common joke. He didn’t know where this sense of dread suddenly came from.

**Hollywood 1946**

Caleb Gleeson only took the job as Toby Grisoni’s assistant, because he’d hoped it would get her close to the girl. He had heard through the grapevine that she had taken up residence as a nanny for the director and his kids, but didn’t know that his wife was the woman he had signed his soul away to. Clearly she was going to reap the rewards that were set out for her, so all he had to do was figure out a way to get to her.  
****

Toby rarely had guest over at his home, but Caleb had found the perfect excuse. A screenplay that needed his final approval. So, taking a company car, he drove over to the gated community where the richest of richest were allowed and pulled up into that gravel driveway. Knocking on the door, he did not expect her to answer and she was ready to slam the door on his face.

“Hey, hey, hey, that’s pretty rude to kick someone out like that,” he smirked. 

“They’re have a nice family meal and Mr. Grisoni does not like to be disturbed on weekends,” Mary gritted as she pushed against the door. 

“But the executives need Mr. Grisoni’s final approval on this script before we can start production,” he said as he wedges himself in the doorway, “Please, Kira, have a heart.”

“What’s going on?” Toby’s voice boomed as the two jumped apart. 

“This... man is insistent that you need to approve this script,” she huffed holding her head up high, “I told him you don’t like to be disturbed on weekends.”

“Sir, this script needs you approval if they are going to start production on Monday,” he said. 

“You do realize I’ll be leaving for vacation tomorrow, Gleeson,” Toby said as he towered over the red head, “or did that slip your puny brain? I explained to MGM that I wouldn’t be able to do this project.”

He had forgotten that.

“I’m sorry, sir...”

“You’re sorry? You figured you could come to my home, on a day I don’t liked to be bothered with work, harass my nanny and insist I approve something that I’m not working on and all you can say is _I’m sorry_?” Toby bellowed as Caleb cowered, “Mary, make sure the children’s suitcases are packed while I deal with this idiot.”

To be his lackey was infuriating. He dished insult after insult, berating him for his incompetence for making him do this. When he tossed him out of his private study, Rosanna was waiting with a knowing smirk as she stirred her martini. 

“Amateur,” she chuckled as Caleb fixed his coat, “What could you have possibly gotten done by showing up at this place with him here.”

“A lot more than you with your devils running around,” he huffed as he stole her martini.

“My devils? How dare you talk about my children like that?”

“As if they’re really yours,” he glared, “You enchanted him to fall in love with you. Like you care what happens to them. They’re no better than pigs ready for slaughter.”

He watched her eye twitch as she snatched the empty glass from him to make another drink. 

“They have potential. In due time, they’ll do what is needed to be done and then, the queen will be snuffed from existence. Besides, with enough enchanting, I could get that man to bend at my will.”

“She’s to be mine... I was promised...”

“And you will, my pet,” she purred in his ear, “Just be patience and don’t screw this up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... I felt I needed to put a better chapter after that last one. I'm sorry for the depressing chapter, but this is slightly better, right? We got Toby. We got some Mary... Umm... Galen... sexy nanny play... Yeah... Thanks again to everyone who has been supporting. Hopefully this chapter makes you feel better about the last one. I really hated writing that chapter. I really didn't want to kill off Emerson... but... hope you enjoyed this one. Till next time.


	35. If You Run, We Will Kill Them

**New Orleans 1869**

Blackberry was a menace is Viola ever saw one. He’d chase chickens if he got into their pin, make the goats faint whenever he’d bark and dug up the flowers Amilyn had worked hard to plant. However, what could be commended of the dog is that he didn’t let anyone near the cabin that was shared by Bigwig and Strawberry. He was the watch dog that would chase away anyone who came prowling near their home. It was almost like the young dog had a sixth sense of the evils that lurked on the plantation. Probably the reason Armitage was hobbling for a week because the dog bit his ankle. The mutt was a true guardian angel for the new baby. The same was for Viola. If she was painting or doing her stitching outside and Armitage or Mallory got too close, the dog would place himself in front of her, baring his teeth. Viola couldn’t help but feed him extra scraps for riff raft in line. He was a loyal pup through and through with nothing but the best intentions for everyone. He loved wrestling with Jimmy and catching sticks with Clyde. In the evenings, he would like the spoon of whatever mush Strawberry was feeding her son and at night, when there was no danger, curl up at the end of Viola’s bed. For a mutt that she wanted to get rid of, Viola found herself loving Blackberry more than any of the other pets they kept.   
****

Which was why it was so heartbreaking to find him dead in the summer heat.

“Poison,” Jimmy grumbled as Viola stood over the dog’s still body.

“Tis a crime to loss a noble pet,” Armitage said as he removed his cap, “but it’s probably for the best. One less mouth to feed.”

She locked eyes with the Irishman, staring him down as a smirk wavered on his face. He was testing her. He wanted a reaction out of her. 

“Bigwig,” she said turning towards her help, “go with Jimmy and Clyde. Bury Blackberry under willow tree he loved to nap under.”

Once the men were go, Viola wasn’t going to let her fear control her anymore. 

“What do you want?” 

“You know what I want,” he whispered in her ear.

**Unknown 1634**

She could hear the gulls outside her room, the crushing of the sea, and taste the salt in the air. In her windowless room, she laid on the bed waiting for him to return. He left food for her to eat, but she saw no point. No matter how much food she denied, death never came to see her. Armitage would return, use her body, whispering vulgar things in her ear before leaving her in a writhing mess. She had run out of tears. Now, all she could do is wait. Wait until… until… whatever… Maybe when the static disappeared… until the numbness seeped in… until…  
****

She felt a slight draft coming from a corner of the room. Leaving the cot, she found some part of the wall crumbling. She looked through the new opening and could see the sea and sun. With a deep inhale, she felt a new spark of life in her. This was the _until_ she was looking for. She could hear the opening of a door. He was returning. She quickly made her move back to the bed. She would lay there, act as though her spirit has been brought as he took out the untouched breakfast and brought a warm supper. 

“Come on, sweet,” Armitage whispered in her ear, “You need to keep up you strength.”

“Why does it matter? You’ve kept me here for nearly 50 years and nothing’s changed,” she hissed.

“Oh, but so much has,” he smirked turning her to face him as he prepares to take his place between her legs, “Your body has been trained to know when I want you,” She squirmed under him, hating how cold his hands were, “Ah... already ripe for picking.”

“Bête fétide,” she hissed as she tried to shove his away. No matter how hard she fought every night, he won. Pinning her down, forcing her to look him dead in the eye and coating her insides with him. He would kiss her cheek after every session before tell her to eat and leaving her to curl into herself. 

Then in the stillness of night, when she could hear him softly snoring on the other side of the door, she grabbed the knife he had left with the cheese, finding her _until_ spot, and began to chisel away at the hole. No more would she be an empty husk to fill. Now was the time to escape.

**New Orleans 1869**

Viola left a letter to Amilyn to explain why she was leaving and what to do when she was gone. She was grateful that Jimmy and Clyde had been sent off to set traps for a fox that had been stealing her chicken. Night would be her cover as she drew her hood up. If she was going to save the ones she loved, she was willing to make this sacrifice. Bigwig, Strawberry and the baby would be safe. Amilyn would be safe. Jimmy would be safe. And Clyde... She couldn’t think about him, not now. She followed the dirt path until she came upon the wagon that Mallory and Armitage were taking.   
****

“If I do this, no harm will come to them,” she said sternly, “give me your word.”

Mallory took out a knife and cut the palm of her hand. She handed the knife to Armitage and he did the same. 

“By cutting your hand, it seals the pact,” the bayou witch explained, “If you run, we kill them. If anyone is harmed, you’re freed to go.”

Viola took the knife and cut her palm. Joining their hands together, Mallory chanted in an unknown language that seemed to be a mix of Latin, French and German. A tingle ran through her arm and down her spine. When she looked back in her hand, she found the cut was completely healed. Armitage was ready to load her into the wagon as Mallory took the reins.

“So glad you chose to cooperate,” he said in a slither tone. 

In the distance she watched her home disappear. Soon they would wake to find she wasn’t there or the Logan boys would find her note first. They would wake the whole house. She imagine Jimmy would be ready with his rifle. Bigwig would get the horses ready. Clyde would get his pistol, but Amilyn would make them see reason. Here she was giving them a chance at a new life that would leave them richer beyond compare. Bigwig would final have his own homestead. Jimmy could go home to his daughter. And Clyde... would feel as though she had left him... 

_Please, my love... Understand I did this for you..._

**Miami 1946**

Perhaps it was rude for her to watch as her employer got out of the shower, but seeing Toby in the buff was too much to pass up. She had just gone to get more towels for their beach day when she found the door to the master suite slightly ajar. From the rushing of water, she could see the steam and hear his out-of-tune singing. Still she waited, knowing that Rosanna was occupied at the hotel gym for another thirty minutes and the children wouldn’t be waking up for another hour. Then the water turned off as he continued to croon, thinking himself a regular Frank Sinatra. Finally he strolled out, buff as can be with his face buried in his towel. He was lean and fit, with a core that seemed to be as solid as a rock. Mary bit her lip as her eyes lingered down to his nether regions. He was still big and thick as ever with the perfect nest of course hair, as well maintained as his mustache. His legs looked powerful and his feet large as ever. She heard him sigh as he checked his reflection in the mirror. Preparing some shave cream, he tossed the towel aside, giving her a view of his backside. _Still as peachy as ever_.   
****

“What are you doing, Mary?” Emerson asked, making her jump and close the door to the master suit.

“Emerson, when did you get up?” she asked as she ushered him back to the room he shared with his sister.

“Are we not supposed to be up?”

“Well, it’s a vacation and you’re allowed to sleep in as long as you want,” she said as they found Zelda was already up as well, giggling as she jumped on her bed.

“Catch me!” the little girl laughed and bounded into Mary’s waiting arms. Clearly, sleep had been long forgotten.

That night, Toby was sleeping on the couch in the living space of the hotel room. It made Mary anxious. All day her mind had been filled with thoughts of him and trying to find relief had become harder and harder. She should just give up this foolishness and remember why she was truly here. Then she thought about his broad chest, his strong arms, and his supple lips, her mind began to wonder to things that had happened in the past. When things were easier than they were now. She closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like to have those large hands run the length of her body. Her own ran along her sides as she thighs rubbed together. He was always good at whispering sweet nothings. No matter what lifetime it was, the soft timbre of his voice made her feel warm. Her fingers teased her nipples through her slip as she felt herself slowly getting wet. He loved her breasts. He had told her once or twice before that they were the prettiest he had ever seen. (Even if they were the only ones he had ever seen.) Then her hand skated down the length her body to find her waiting sex. She ran her fingers along the folds before giving attention to her sensitive clit. It had been a while since she had done this to herself. Her breath hitched as she teased the bundled of nerves, thinking about his large nose bumping it from time to time as his mouth devoured her. His talented tongue would lick the length of her slit and sometimes probe her entrance before spending time with her clit. A moan escaped her lips as her underwear slowly left her body, rolling down till it hung at her ankle. She turned over, rubbing herself more before slipping two fingers inside of her.

“Toby…” she sighed. She knew those strong hands would bruise her waist as his cock would stretch her pussy. She knew how primal his grunts could get as he would drive into her over and over again.

“Please… ah… just let me come…” 

She felt like she could feel him bend over her with his fingers teasing her bud as he continued to pump, but it wasn’t enough. She grabbed one of her large pillows, sat on it and began frantically humping it. Her whimpers and moans were getting too loud, that she thought about covering her mouth. Then she heard her door lock behind her, making her reach for her sheets to cover herself, and to find her employer in her room with her. She blushed from pure embarrassment as she tried to find reason for her actions. He merely mimicked her words as he slowly undress, revealing his marble body and impressive erection. When he striped her, she didn’t fight it. She saw the hungry look in Toby’s eyes that had always been there. The temptation was there and he was giving her the option to say no.

“The hell with that,” she said and kissed him. 

He fit perfectly. His fingers were better than hers as he began prepping her for his length. His mouth was just as delicious as ever with a hint of brandy on his tongue. She bit down of her hand as he suckled on her teat as he stretched her with three of his fingers. _God, it had been too long._ All of her senses were screaming when she saw him spit in his hand to ready his cock. Never had seen something so erotic as him stroking himself before running it the length of her sobbing slit.

“Je vais mourir…” she sighed as she covered her face. She heard him chuckle.

“Same kid,” he answered as the tip of his cock began to make its way into her.

Then there was a knock at the door, making them freeze, followed by soft sniffles.

“Mary,” came the small voice of Zelda, “I had a bad dream…”

“Don’t answer her,” he mouthed and continued to press in.

“Mary… are you asleep?” The door handle rattled. “Why is your door locked?”

She stopped him and shook her head. She gathered her panties and nightgown.

“I’m coming, ma douce,” she answered as she righted herself.

“Mary,” Toby groaned as she kissed him.

“I’ll return,” she said in a sultry tone, “And then, we can finished what you’ve started.”

She had never felt more powerful in that moment when Toby looked upon her like she was a goddess. With one last breathtaking kiss, she went to attend to the child. She would be back. She always came back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Hooray! Wow! Over 8000 hits and we're nearing 400 kudos! Could you imagine what would happen if I got like 500 kudos?! Ugh! Thanks to Lucifee, Beebee8, Zombie_Queen, N, littlegreenbirdy and helloimindelaware for all of the amazing comments. I'm so sorry for this emotional rollercoaster, but I do promise that there will be a happy ending. I hope you guys are enjoying this as much as I am writing. Till next time everyone. <3


	36. Delicious Plate of Revenge

**Unknown 1634**

Armitage must have caught to what she doing, because he change the type of utensils he would bring for her meal. He hadn’t been able to find the hole as she was able to fill it with intact bricks, but slowly she was planning her escape. She ate the meals that she was provided, she was more compliant to his need, and every night when he slept, she would get back to work. She just had to act the part, to make him believe that she had given in. No more fighting with him, no more insults, she needed him to have his guard down when the time came. When she finally had the hole big enough for her escape, she took one of the bricks and placed it under a pillow. With one final deep breath, Kira got ready.   
****

She ran a comb through her long locks and began braiding them. Perhaps he would prefer to see more of her neck. He had mention wanting to litter her skin with bruises from his mouth. Next was adjusting the night gown she had on. She was to be a seductive mistress, a Venus fly trap that was inviting to its prey. So she loosen the strings to reveal her shoulder and allow him a view of the soft breasts that lay underneath. Not showing him everything, but enough to tease. She took some shriveled rose petals and mixed them in an oil to rub on her neck. Added fragrance wouldn’t draw too much attention.

Then back to her bed where she sat waiting to lure the weasel into its snare. A delicious plate of revenge would arrive soon enough for her.

**London 2019**

Rey looked over the sleeping form that was Ben Solo... or what looked like Ben Solo, but really wasn’t Ben Solo... He was Kylo Ren... or he was yesterday and today he’s Tony Grisoni... a man who knows nothing about Kylo Ren, let allow art in general... She getting a really headache from this and she had to get an aspirin. In the kitchen she paced, trying to understand this phenomenon. Kaydel clearly knew something after the way she had addressed her that night. She could meet with her in private, but the last thing she wanted was to put Ben... or at least Ben’s body, in any danger. There was Nathan, but he wouldn’t be any used since he seems to only hold vague memories of his past self. Caleb was definitely out of the question. She never wanted to be alone with that man ever again, after all she had been through with him. With a loud sigh, she ran her fingers through her hair and decided to take to the internet.   
****

She typed many things in the search bar from possessions to past lives to reincarnation, but nothing was helpful. She was about to start crying feeling that all is lost until a pop ad for a tea shop showed up in the screen.

_Teas, Scones, and Readings. Come to Maz’s Palace. Learn about your past, present and future._

“Oh mon Dieu... Maz?”

**Hollywood 1946**

He was fucking her in the living room where anyone could come down to see them. She bit down hard on her lip as he continued with great determination.  
****

“Fuck,” he groaned, shifting her so her legs rested on his shoulders and he could go deeper, “Jesus Christ...”

“Shh... please... she’ll... hear... you...”

“Fuck if I care,” he smirked before capturing her lips for a sloppy kiss, he pulled out, plopping down on the couch and made her straddle his waist, “Show me how much you want in.”

Locking eyes with Toby, she found her balance as she slide up and down. Her hand gripping into the cushion behind him as he wrapped an arm around her waist. He gently forced his thumb into her mouth, making her suck on it lewdly as he smiled. 

“You’re gorgeous, kid... So fucking gorgeous... they should paint your portrait...”

“Toby...” she whined as she ground against him. 

“You close?” he asked and she nodded. Smirking, chose to pull out again, turning her over so her face was buried into the seat of the couch and her ass was up in the air. He teased her entrance before going in with ease. Mary wasn’t sure how much more she could take of this as she felt it piling up. She thighs were shaking as Toby’s skin slapped against her ass. 

“I’m going to paint your back, Mary,” he grunted, “Paint it like it’s a Pollock piece.”

“No... ah... I can’t... Merde... No... Je suis éjaculer... Ah!!!” A liquid ran down the length of her thighs as she felt his hot, sticky release on her back. She was seeing stars as her legs gave out from under her, still twitching from her climax. She heard him chuckle before kissing the back of her neck. 

“Fuck, kid. I’ve never come so hard in my life...” she felt his fingers over her back, “Shit... I really did paint it... can you move?”

“If you... give me... a moment...”

Toby chuckled, picked her up in his arms and carried her to a near by bathroom. The good thing about large mansions is there are multiple suits for many people. If the Grisonis would entertain, Mary would have imagined this house would be filled with overnight guest. However, these rooms were mainly use to contain affair that was happening. Mary could recount every single space Toby had kissed, embraced and pleasures her while his wife was only a few meters away. He was much more daring than any of his other past selves, which possible made it all the more fun. However at the end or when they were spent, he took extra care to hide the evidence of what happened. Which sometimes meant long baths where took pleasure in washing her entire body. In the large tube they shared, Mary enjoyed feeling his fingers massage her scalp as he washed away the bit of cum that might have landed there. 

“Ever been to Temecula?” he asked. 

“Not really,” she sighed as he pulled her against his chest. 

“It’s an old town where they have vineyards and small farms. They send up hot air balloons that you can ride in,” he said as he kissed her shoulder, “Thought about taking you and the kids there for a weekend trip. Rent a house that’s large enough so I can sneak into your room without their knowledge.”

In the midst of the bliss, Mary couldn’t help but feel guilt from time to time. Once or twice they had been nearly caught by either Zelda or Emerson. Whether it was a simple kiss on the cheek or Toby seen leaving the guest house before dawn broke, the two did have questions. At dinner once Emerson had asked about the kiss on the cheek, which made Toby nearly choke as his wife raise an eyebrow. 

“It’s just what adults do when they like each other, Emerson,” Mary explained, “Kind of like when you kiss your sister, your mother or me on the cheek.”

An argument ensued as Mary was getting the children ready for bed. She tried to distract them from the awful words their parents were throwing at each other or the plates and glasses that were being broken downstairs. She read to them until it seemed like the chaos had stopped with a slam of the master bedroom door. 

“Perhaps you should take your wife instead,” she suggested, “I’m sure the kids would love to see their parents spending time together.”

“Please. Like she would want to get into a hot air balloon,” Toby scoffed.

“I’m just saying, perhaps your children would like to see their parents somewhat happy with each other. If we want to keep this affair a secret, you have to play the part of doting husband from time to time...” she swallowed back the tears, “And Rosanna would love a romantic evening with her husband.”

**London 2019**

“I’ve always wanted to go to London,” Toby said as they rode in the cab, “not that I haven’t been before, for not really pleasure.”  
****

He scooted closer and whispered in Rey’s ear, “You look lovely today.” He kissed her cheek, but she continued to stare straight ahead.

“What’s wrong, kid?”

“I’m just thinking,” she said as the cab pulled into the historic district.

The tea shop was in a Victorian style home with a grey wash and a black door. The black door had an oval window with two smaller circles inside that made it look like a pair of eyes. After paying the fare. Rey took Toby’s hand and led him into the tea shop. 

“How can I help you?” an older woman with lavender hair asked. 

“My name is Rey Andor and this is ummm... Ben Solo. We have an appointment with Maz.”

Opening the planner in front of her, the lady found her name and turned it around for her.

“Sign here please. I’ll get your tea and scones ready,” the lady said and walked away. 

“We haven’t even order yet,” Toby said, “and who’s Ben Solo?”

“The person’s body you’re possessing,” she answered as she took a seat at a table.

“Possessing? You make it sound like...” His face went pale as he stumble still. Rey caught him and helped him sit. 

“Toby?”

“This isn’t my body…” he said, “And he… he wants it back…”

**Unknown 1634**

Armitage was taken by the sight of Kira. Her hair was styled in a loose braid, her shift barely hanging onto her body and the skirt was bunch up to show off her long legs. Her sultry gaze held his as he slowly approach with the tray of food. She thanked him for the meal as they ate in silence. Something had to be off. Grant it the past few weeks had been enjoyable now that she was more submissive. Her body seemed to mold perfectly to his whenever they made love and seemed to eye him more whenever he left. Perhaps tonight he will share her bed and they can fall into a blissful sleep.  
****

“Kira,” he said as she looked up from her bowl, “you look lovely tonight.”

“Merci, mon cheri,” she said with smile, “I even tried to create my own perfume.” She leaned in, making her neck more available to him and he could seem the sweet fragrance. He kissed her neck, forgetting about dinner, and made a trail up to her lips. She willing to his kiss, softly sighing as she aided him out of his shirt and trousers.

“Un si bel homme,” she whispered in his ear as she stroked his member, “Un homme bien.”

He allowed her to push him down onto the bed as she removed her shift. Straddling his waist, she lowered herself onto his waiting cock. He groaned once he was engulfed into her warmth. What a wonderful reward? To have a woman so compliant that she would willing pleasure you. Up and down he watched her ride him. It was an amazing sight that he had wanted so long to experience. Even with the king, he would imagine her being the one mounting him. She leaned over him, kissing him softly as her hips rolled against him.

“Tell me how I’m alive?” she asked.

“I made a deal with a man,” he groaned as she bit his neck, “He said I could have you if I did as I was told,” he shivered when he felt her nails digging his chest, “So I killed your son to feed a witch and brought you body to him,” he began to move his hips with hers, “He did the rest.”

Armitage began to close his eyes as Kira giggled against his lips.

“Are you close?”

“Yeah,” he grunted as his gripped tighten on her waist. He felt her shift backwards, leaning back to give him more space to move till he spilt into her. Before he could breath a sigh of relief, he opened his eyes to find her holding a large brick over her head as her cheeks were stained with tears. In one fell swoop, the brick made contact with his face and everything went dark.

**London 2019**

Maz had not change. She was still very small with wide green eyes and wrinkles everywhere. How she was still alive, Rey had no idea. Perhaps she was under the same enchantment she was. Maybe she had the answers. Maybe Rey was just insane from being alive for nearly 500 years. However she greeted Rey like she always had, with a warm hug and calling, “ma douce fille.”  
****

“Maz, how is this even possible?” she asked.

“Many things are possible, child,” the elder woman answered as she sat at their table, “You should know this by now.”

“So what is this exactly?” Toby interjected, “I mean I’m guessing I’m dead and this Solo guy wants to be back, but… I don’t want to…”

“Where do you feel him?” Maz asked as she lowered her glasses from her head and moved closer, grabbing his chin and looking into his eyes.

“Like in my front lobe, but this guy had his chance and clearly blew it,” he chuckled as Maz examine him.

“What of Kylo Ren? Clearly he was here before.”

“Seeing Poe’s portrait made him upset,” Rey explained, “When I went after him, I found him talking to our son.”

“And you haven’t seen anyone else? No Francisco, Adam or Clyde?” the woman asked as she turned her gaze back to Rey.

“Who?” Toby raised an eyebrow, “There were others before me?”

“Oh no, they’ve always been you,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, “You just didn’t know that. When you’ve lived as long as me, you see the same eyes, but in different people.”

“What do you mean?” Rey pressed.

“Drink the tea, Toby,” Maz said, “and you’ll see.”

Picking up the ceramic cup, Rey watched as his Adam’s apple bob. Something in his eyes seemed to shift. They widen in confusion till they turned towards her. He jumped, toppling backwards and crab walked into a corner.

“Isso não pode ser! Você não pode estar aqui!” he shouted.

“Maz, what’s happening?”

“Relaxe, Padre,” Maz spoke as she walked towards the frighten man, “Está tudo bem. Nenhum dano virá para você.”

**Unknown 1634**

She could finally feel the sun on her skin and breeze in her hair. Freedom had never felt so inviting. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the sound of crushing waves and the cries of sea gulls. She ran her fingers along the grass she laid in just smiling. Her soul was finally at peace and now she could move on. Kira followed the dirt path till she came upon she came upon the city. A port town with many ships as the marketplace seemed to open for the day. Stealing an apple from a cart, Kira chose to enjoy her new found freedom. Some people hawk at her attire, in the only nightgown she had owned, but she could careless. Call her mad if they wanted to, she would wear a proud smile.   
****

To the docks she wondered, unable to resists its call. Something about the ocean, the gulls and the shouts from men made her relax. Tossing the core aside, Kira approached the end of an abandon dock and looked over the end. The ocean was vast and deep, never seeming to end as it turned too dark for light to reach it. She wondered what would happen to her if she could reach the bottom. Would she just exist at the bottom of the sea or would she keep falling, disappearing into nothing? She could see her reflection in the surface of the water. Nothing had changed except maybe the length of her hair. Forever the child that came to London long ago. She hated it. Cursed to keep living with no sign of it ending. Alone to face the unknown. She should just jump to see what life would be like at the bottom of the sea.

Then a pair of arms engulfed and pulled her away from the edge. She had fear Armitage had come back from the dead and ready to whisk her back to her prison.

“Unhand me, you pig! Monster! Bastard! Let go! Let go! Help me! Help me!” she cried out.

“Por favor madame,” spoke a deep rich voice that shook her soul, “Eu não quero te machucar.”

“Impossible,” she murmured, turned to face the man that was holding her and came face-to-face with a ghost. He was thinner and beard not as well kept, but it was him. The nose, the ears, the mouth and the eyes were all him. Her heart began to race as if perhaps she had finally gone mental. Her sanity had finally broken from the years of torture she had face with Armitage that she was hallucinating. 

_It’s not him... he’s not here... you watched him die... you killed him... murder... Murder... MURDER..._

Through her tears she tried to escape, but the man held on. He wasn’t going to let her go despite her pleas. She had to get away, far away. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take. Though she couldn’t understand him, his voice was soothing and his hold on her was comforting, but she couldn’t take it. She didn’t want to go through this all over again. She felt dizzy as she ran out of air. The last thing she remembered was those pretty pair of eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Over 8000 hits and nearly 400 kudos! I can't believe how well this story has done so far. Thank you all so much for your support. I really am amazed at all the love this story has gotten. Thank you to everyone who has commented and left kudos, it means so much to me. Thank you all new and old readers. I'm not sure how long this story is going to be, but it's going to be a journey for sure. lol Till next time.


	37. Bazine Nepal

**London 1565**

Bazine Netal was a woman who came from a rich family. She never hunger as a child and was spoiled with her family’s fortune. However, she was also the eldest daughter out and her father had no sons. She was his only hope in maintain his riches. She was trained to be a lady, to be a good wife to a man of some wealth, to flatter him and be his companion. Then word had gotten out about their new king. He came from a wealthy dynasty and was looking for a queen.  
 ****

When the king had decided to take a wife, Bazine was in the courts to flirt and flaunt in hope to be named queen. However rich merchants do not hold such merits when it came the political game. So, when Kira Leclair was crowned queen, Bazine became one of her ladies through some trades her father did. She didn’t mind not being queen for she saw the misery it brought the young French girl. Kira was an outcast, more like a pet than a wife to Poe Dameron as he was taken by one of his lords. So, Bazine chose to enjoy to cushion life she was given. She had no desire to marry, so she thrilled herself with trysts. From stable boys to married king’s men, the lovely brunette had her pick. None of them ever said no to her. Her bed was never cold and her appetite was always satisfied with jewels, dresses, and other fine things. A life of luxury she had always known.

Then Kylo Ren came and changed everything. Unlike the men she had been with before, he was gentle and seemed to be more interested in her mind than her body. He would gift her beautiful drawings, take long strolls with her in the garden, and kiss her under the alcove. When he asked to sketch her, she gladly accepted, ready to bare herself to such a man, but he never lusted after her. He never asked for her to lay with him after they were done. He’d help her dress, kiss her, and bid her good night. It was almost maddening that a man who came from nothing, could be more of gentleman than the ones in court.

What she loved more about him was how much the queen despised him.

“Kylo this! Kylo that!” Kira cried out as they were doing their sewing, throwing hers to the ground, “Is there nothing else you hens can talk about?! He is just a man who holds a pencil and scribbles. Any twit can do that! If he were a man with a gnarled face, you wouldn’t be mooning over him.”

Bazine laughed after she recounted those events to him, but he didn’t seem to laugh either.

“Does she really think that lowly of me?” he asked as the sat by the fire. His face fell in deep concern, pulling at her heart.

“What matter is it what she thinks of you? Everyone else adores you,” she said as she knelt at his feet to look at his face, “They sing your praises and love you work. Even the king regards you as one of the best. To hell with what that French brat thinks of you.”

He gave her a halfhearted smile before sending her on her way.

Then she learned what the queen’s words were so concerning to him and where his heart truly lied. 

One day walking towards the library, she heard a scuffle.

“That’s not true!” she heard the queen cry.

“Yet you scowl when I’m seen with another woman and curse me for even being near me,” spoke Kylo when she came upon the scene. He had Kira backed into a wall, hands gripping onto her arms for dear life while she struggled against him. Bazine had never seen him so angry. His nostrils flaring and his veins pulsed on his neck.

“I send you flowers and letters in hopes to catch your eye and you scorn existence,” he continued caging her in.

“Because you’re a spiteful man,” the queen huffed as Bazine watched from behind a bookcase, feeling her anger grow. _How could he?_

“Please, continue to tell me all the bad things I am,” he growled, his nose touching hers as Bazine watch her body stiffen and her eyes grow wide, “I love hearing those hateful words from her beautiful mouth.”

“Unhand me…” the queen weakly command as if captivated by the hunger that was in his eyes.

“Never,” he answered before pulling her in for a kiss.

Bazine could feel the tears fall, wetting her face as she watched the queen relax into his hold and seeped her fingers in his locks. She could feel herself shaking. She wanted nothing more than to run over there and pull that French girl by her auburn locks, to drag her down to the courts and have her shamed for her sins. However her feet didn’t dare move. She was grounded into place as her eyes tortured her with the display of affection that was pure and genuine. When they pulled apart, it was clear to her now that the queen did return this love that the artist had for her, but she rejected him. Pushed him aside and made a break for the door. Running down the hall, sobbing the entire time. 

Bazine watched as he picked up the destroyed canvas and tossed across the room before yelling. He pushed over a bookcase and ripped up a few books.

“Damn that woman!” he cursed, “Damn her and her lover! To hell with that king and his bride… To hell with me…” He slumped back in his chair and sobbed into his hands.

Her love was hurting. If the queen would not give him what he wanted, Bazine would gladly pick up the pieces.

She lead him back to his chambers, gave him some wine, and spoke sweet nothings to him. She kissed his brow as she slowly helped out of his clothes. He was dazed and festering. She could see his mind at work as if still processing the events of the day, trying to figure out where he went wrong.

“Don’t think about her,” she whispered into his ear, “Think of me. I can keep your bed warm. I will never reject you. I want you. I desire you.” With every promise she made, an article of clothing left her body until she was completely bare. She sat a straddle on his lap as he stared at her.

“Just love me, Kylo,” she pleaded, “Love me and not her.”

“Don’t talk,” he commanded as he pulled her into a fiery kiss, burning with passion that set her soul aflame.

She would gladly stay silent as he caressed her body. Finally she was going to get what she deserved. The man of romance was finally going to make her feel whole. In exchange for his sorrow, she would make him feel loved and wanted. Curse that silly French brat who dare tempted him. She was his and only his. No one else mattered. Except, he ran into an issue. No matter how many times they had tried, he wouldn’t stiffen. With her hands or with her mouth, nothing seemed to work. Perhaps was from too much wine. Perhaps he was ill. _Perhaps_ _it_ _was_ _because_ _his_ _heart_ _belonged_ _to_ _other_ …

He apologized and feigned that it was just an illness. He thanked her for her company as he righted her dress. With a kiss on the forehead, her pulled her in once more.

“I would make me happy if you chose to find someone who could love you better,” he whispered before bidding her night.

Bazine could not understand his words. Was he rejecting her? After everything they had been through? Was she not good enough? Was she not pretty enough? Was she too old for him? Her and Kylo shared the same age, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t any less pretty. Perhaps he just preferred the French to the British. So, she decided to change everything about herself. She threw out her gowns for more extravagant items. She emulated the queen’s mannerisms and speech. She even tried to learn the bloody language only to watch him stare at the young queen longingly. She still turn up at his door, hoping he would change his mind and they could try again. She would be willing to do anything if it meant that they could be together, but Kylo hadn’t budge. 

“Please, my love,” she wept at his door, “Just give me a chance.”

However nothing came from it. So instead she chose to turn the ladies against the queen. She started rumors about how vain the young queen was. Her tongue spoke that she thought of lowly she thought of her ladies and the reason she didn’t want any of them near Kylo because she was jealous.

“Here she on her high horse, when really she is the saddest of us all,” she whispered, “Married to a man that will never love her, she hates how free we are to be with whom we want. To us the world is ours to take and she is chained to life of pestilence. She can’t even conceive child. What good is she if the king has no heir?”

Bazine smirked when she heard Kira sobbing at night. With friends to come to her aid, it would be a delight to watch her crumble.

So, when the king took his leave to Wales, Bazine put on her finest silk and released her hair into beautiful curls to see the artist. In her delight, she hummed as she skipped down the hall. With a knock at his door, she waited and when he opened, she was thrilled.

“Lady Bazine, I thought I asked you not to call on me,” Kylo had said.

“Nonsense, my love. There is no one, but us and the queen is too busy with the affairs of the kingdom,” she smiled as she tried to make her way in the room.

“Yet, she has given you ladies orders to avoid me like the plague,” he answered as he stepped in front of her, “I would hate to see you thrown in the tower for something so trivial.”

“Then let’s run away from this cursed place, some place where it’s just you and I,” she grabbed his shirt and trie to pull him in for a kiss, but he stiffened.

“I see you have mistaken my romantics as signs of affection,” he said as he released himself from her grip, “My heart belongs to another, Bazine.”

_No… that’s impossible…_

She looked over his shoulder and saw the fine, blue silk robe. There was only one woman who owed such finery.

“Who?” she asked, she wanted to hear it from him, “Who is she?”

“None of your concern,” he answered as he slowly pushed her aside to close his door.

“I demand you tell me at once!”

“Mind your manners or you’ll wake the whole castle, Lady Bazine,” he hissed, “Good night and don’t come again.”

He slammed the door in her face. She let out a blood chilling cry as she pounded her fists on his door. She would be slighted like this. He was hers! She had him first!

She saw him for what he truly was! She had him!

“I curse thee, Kylo Ren!” she shouted, “I curse thee and thine lover to a thousand years of agony!”

Storming from the castle, Bazine ran into the woods. Hot, anger tears blinded her as she ran deeper and deeper in. What loathsome man! How dare he! He could have had everything! He could have been hers if he wasn’t so blind! Pathetic! Despicable! She’ll see him suffer for this.

 _“And what would you do to see him suffer?”_ asked an eerie voice in the fog.

Bazine stopped in her tracks as the voice continued.

_“What if he didn’t have to suffer? What if he could just be yours?”_

“He **_IS_** mine,” she gritted.

 _“But his heart belongs to other, the one who is your enemy,”_ the voice continued, _“However, he can be yours, if you work for me.”_

In the fog, a human heart appeared on a stump, still beating and oozing with blood.

_“Eat this and you’ll have what you desire the most…”_

And without hesitation, she devoured the heart.

**Balmorhea 1869**

Mallory tended to the fire as Armitage finished tying Viola to the wagon. He curse up a storm as he wiped the blood from his face.  
 ****

“Trying to impregnate her already?” she chuckled as he glared, “Or do you think you can take advantage of her already?”

“You were the one who said we needed a baby by the end of the year,” he growled.

“There are other ways to get a baby, trust me. There is an Indian tribe not to far from here. We’ll find our baby,” she answered as she started cook her beans.

“And what about Clyde? You’ve just given up on him?”

“Not yet,” she smiled, “I can always go back and offer him a better life.”

“With what? Spells and incantations?” He jumped when his food was turned in beetles and now was glaring at him. 

“Don’t mock me,” Mallory sneered, “You’ll thank me later.”

**Hollywood 1940**

Rosanna Ricci saw Toby Grisoni across a crowded room. He was very tall with a thick mane of black as he struggled to strike up a conversation with one of the executives. It was cute seeing someone she knew as a confident being. She walked over to him with the executive had enough of him and asked him for a light. After a few puffs, she watches him become more frizzled as he turned to the bar to get a drink.  
 ****

“You need to relax, sweetheart,” she chuckled as she rubbed his back, “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I swear to God, I should have just joined the military like the rest of the boys back home,” he groaned as the bar tender brought his drink.

“What good would it do you getting blown up with the rest of them,” she scoffed, “What’s good is that you’re here, thriving in the best city.”

“Not if I can’t catch a break,” he spat as he placed a dollar on the counter.

“Add it to my tab, Horas,” she said as she put the silver dollar back in his coat pocket, “and make me a double.”

“Yes, Miss Ricci,” the bar tender said and Toby gaped. 

“You’re… You’re Rosanna Ricci from _Miss_ _Marvelous Rose._ ”

“Guilty,” she chimed, flashing a beaming smile. 

“Oh, Miss Ricci, gosh, I’m so embarrassed. Can I buy you a drink?”

“With what money, page boy?” she chuckled, “I kid, I kid. So, what are you trying to be a an actor?”

“I’m a screenwriter for trade, but I want to direct and I have the next big movie. Only Mr. Mayer doesn’t think so.”

“Let me read your screenplay,” she insisted, “If I like it, I’ll talk to Lou and we’ll give you a shot.”

“Really?” Rosanna nodded. 

Within a month, Rosanna was casted in the lead of _The Great Affair_ along side the new Hispanic actor. By the end of production, her and Toby had built a strong working relationship. He respected her and praised her for her work, however it wasn’t enough. It was not the relationship she wanted. He had yet to make an official move on her , but he had taken her advice and grew a nice mustache. She was told to be patience and soon she would reap her reward, but patience was something lacked. 

“Toby,” she had said one night they were out for dinner, “We should go to the premiere together.”

“Miss Ricci, you flatter me, but wouldn’t you much rather go with Jose? He’s far more handsome than me,” he chuckled as he cut into his steak.

“Perhaps I would rather have a man of brains rather than brawn,” she said as she twirled the reflective pendent attached to her necklace, catching the light just right so he was drawn to it, “Perhaps you prefer blondes instead brunettes. Perhaps you prefer a woman of many talents to a woman who knows nothing of the world. Perhaps you _would_ prefer me _over_ her.”

His eyes clouded as his body went limp. Rosanna walked over to him and with the flick of her wrist he stood. 

“Perfect,” she smiled, kissing his mouth, “Follow me, love.”

And into the bedroom they went.

**London 2019**

Kaydel and Caleb looked at the old tea shop, waiting for the couple to come out.  
 ****

“This is bad... if they find out, that’s it,” he said, “This is all your fault. You should have killed him when you had the chance or charmed him or whatever it is you do!”

“Call up Nathan,” she replied, “I think it’s time he played his part.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter about our villain. I wanted to explain how her powers work and give you a reason to why she is the way she is. I hope this helps explain her character more. I was going back through the story and realized I haven't shown her character much. So here you go! Some stuff on the bad people! I have written the final chapter, however, this story is no where near done. Thank you all so much for your support, your comments and kudos. I can't believe there are still so many people that are reading this fic. Over 8000 hits and nearly 400 kudos and I can't stop screaming. This is amazing. Thank you all again. Till next time.


	38. The Tragic Tale of Padme and Anakin

**Lisbon 1635**

Kira wasn’t sure he was going to come, but she lit the candles anyways. Atmosphere. She wanted him to feel comfortable for what they were about to do. Whether brave or foolish, she did slip the priest a letter containing all of her intentions for him. Perhaps it was too forward since he was a man of God and asking him to break his vows for her may be a bit much. However, she was desperate. For too long she had live in torturous surrounds and finding Father Garupe was the salvation she had been waiting for. She looked herself over, fiddling with her hair as she sat in front of her vanity. Would he like her hair up or down? She had so much of it, she had just consider cutting the whole lot off. Grabbing a brush, she ran it through hoping to calm her nerves.   
 ****

_This is ridiculous. He’s never going to come. Not after that foolish stunt._

Kira shouldn’t have forced herself on him. She had seen the fright in his eye after the act, but was able to sooth him afterwards. Now she may have pushed her luck too far. 

She opened a draw and pulled out a bag of coins. She would have enough to start a new life. She began dividing it to donate to the church when she heard a knock at the door.

“Who… who’s there?” Kira asked timidly, not wanting to get her hopes up.

“Francisco,” he answered just as timid as her, “I’ve come to answer your letter.”

She got up and open the door a little, just enough for them to face each other.

“You don’t have to… we can just talk, Father,” she wanted to give him an option, a chance to reject her fully. She could understand if this something he didn’t want.

“Since you’ve left, I’ve done nothing but think of you. I think about the way you…” he swallowed, “pleasure yourself and I had to reveal myself from the ache… You’ve done something to me that I cannot explain. I should hate myself for what we’ve done, asked God for penance and leave the church, but… somehow this feels right.”

“Francisco,” she sighed as he pushed his way in and captured her lips. _Oh, how she missed those lips._ The fullness of his mouth against hers made her soul soar. She was no longer on Earth, but had transcended into another world. The universe seemed to have righted itself once more as she felt him pull at her night gown, loosen the neck so he could kiss her shoulder. Her fingers threaded through his hair like they had done so many times before as she softly keened under him.

Somehow they found the small bed as their clothes lay scattered on the floor. He leaned over her as he nervously positioned himself at her entrance.

“Breath,” she said, “I’m here. I won’t break.”

“But I might,” he chuckled as he slowly entered her. Kira moaned as he pushed in. 

“It does feel right,” she gasped. She could feel him shaking, worried that he might to something wrong. Kira pulled the young priest in and kissed him deeply.

“Just let go,” she cooed, “It’s just us. No one will hurt you. I won’t let them.”

“I feel I should be saying that to you,” he answered, their lips inches apart as he adjusted himself. Her legs squeezed his side as her fingers rubbed the base of his neck.

“Anything you do will be enough, my love,” she whispered, “Trust me when I say I love you.”

He looked like he was going to cry at her words before finding the confidence to begin their love making session. She didn’t hold back for her moans. She encouraged him to move more, to not be afraid of what they were doing and he responded with soft whimpers. In a  turn of events, Kira had moved to be on top of Francisco. He whispered about her beauty and how he was unworthy. 

“No, my sweet,” she gasped as he leaned up to take her nipple in his mouth, “You’re more than worthy.”

By the end of it, she was a writhing mess. He held her close as she trembled from the pleasure.  He wiped her tears, unsure of why she crying. He feared he might have done something wrong. She calmed his nerves with one kiss, teeth nearly clashing and tongues twirling as she laid out everything for him. In one kiss, she let him know how much she appreciated him, adored him and loved him. If she knew that the past 60 years of suffering would have lead her to such a beautiful moment as this, she would do it all over again. 

**London 2019**   
****

Rey was alone in a room with now Francisco as Maz went to see the shop. He just stared at her, like he didn’t know what to do with her. His brow furrowed as his eyes wonder over her body.   
 ****

“So, you’re alive?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

“For how long?”

“Too long…”

“How?”

“I don’t know…” she felt the tears forming as he got closer.

“Kira?” He gently cupped her face and wiped the strayed one that fell, “Have you been waiting for me?”

“I… I…” She didn’t know what to say, but he seemed to understand and closed the distance between them. He held her like he had done so many times before. During those times of uncertainty, when they had contemplated if their affair was right, she would just ask him to hold her in those quiet nights. She wrapped her arms around his waist and cried.

“Francisco, my love, I’m more confused than ever,” she sobbed and he kissed her head.

“Shhh… let’s see this as a blessing,” he whispered, “God has decided to give us a second chance.”

“It’s not God,” Maz said as she entered the room, making the pair look at her, “but I’m sure he knows what’s going on.”

“What do you mean?” Francisco asked.

“This is not the first time this has happened,” the older woman explained, “and the result was disastrous.”

She offered them a seat on an old, leather couch as she took hers across from them. 

“There was once a man named Vader and he was in love with a maiden name Padme. They were of different classes though. He was a slave and she was a princess. However, that didn’t stop them from falling in love.”

**200 Rome**

Vader was his name. He was told to be as tall as a tree, as large as mountain, and as strong as a bull. His name ran chills down the spines of those who heard and made children cry in fear. He was a brute and a champion in the stadium. Padme had seen him to the colosseum. Covered in blood as he held his opponents head in his hand, the crowd cheered as her fiancé clapped along. She was more appalled by the whole matter. _How_ _easily_ _entertained_ _men_ _were_ _by_ _such_ _barbaric_ _behaviors_. Still Padme clapped as the gladiator offered the head as a prize to the emperor. She was sure he was going to be rewarded well for his deed. Then he removed his helmet. Dry blonde curls released as they trickled down to the back of his shoulders. When he turned to address the crowd, the young woman was taken by his blue eyes and felt a flutter in her heart. When they met hers, he smirked, making her feel uneasy.  
 ****

“Tonight we dine with this campion, my sweet,” her fiancé said.

Padme wasn’t sure she want to be part of this grand celebration as this Roman gladiator. So from afar she watched him, dressed in a black toga as he talked with the emperor and other nobility.

“Be careful where your eyes wonder, fair maiden,” spoke the voice of her long time friend, Obi.

“My eyes don’t wonder. I am simply an outlier to the world of men,” she answered as she sipped her wine.

“Yet, they draw towards the champion in the room,” the bearded scholar implied.

“You think me simple like those harlots that are drawn to a beast like a moth to a fire?”

“No, but I know what others would think if they saw you staring,” he said as he looked over his shoulder, “Vipers lie in wait for the perfect moment to attack.”

“Then I’ll carry a dagger and cut out their heads before they attack.”

Obi gave her a look of concern while the gladiator drew closer to the pair.

“What a lovely sight to see,” he said as he looked over the young woman, “Clearly nothing more beautiful than a summer flower that blooms before spring is over.”

“You wish to compare me to a rose? How dull,” Pamde sneered, trying to act bore from the gladiator’s advances.

“I was going to say iris,” he smirked over his challis, “I’m more than just a brute that slays opponents, your grace.”

She merely huffed.

“For your information, I am already betroth to another.”

“And as a man of honor, I will come in between you and your beloved,” the gladiator chuckled before leaning into her ear, “However, if you do get bored, my bed is always open for you to fill.”

From that moment on, Padme had despited Vader. 

**London 2019**

Caleb waited in the cafe for Nathan. He jiggled his leg nervously as he went over the plan one more.   
 ****

_It has to work. If it doesn’t work, I’ll be ruined… or worst._

Nathan beamed as he took his seat across from Caleb. A waitress came with his drink already made.

“Wow, boss, you didn’t have to go all out,” he chuckled as he took a sip of his coffee and grabbed a menu, “Have you order yet or…”

“Food is not important right now,” Caleb had said hastily.

“Okay,” the young man said as he put his menu up, “so what’s up? Is it about the gallery? Oh, you read that one article, didn’t you? Listen that Mitaka guy has it all wrong. Clearly he can’t tell the difference between Monet and Manet.”

“Just listen, okay,” he gritted, making Nathan concern.

“Are you feeling all right, Armitage?” he asked in a low voice as he tried to reach out to him, but Caleb pulled away.

“Look, we need to right the wrong that has been done, if not chaos will ensue and we’ll be lost to the void,” Caleb started, “You have to act on your impulse, you understand. No matter how much she may refuse, you have to finish this.”

“But we tried, remember. She rejected me.”

“Need a little help?” Kaydel asked as she joined them men, “What you need is to just bump into the right direction.”

She pulled out her necklace with the glass pedant. With a twirl, she made sure it caught the light just so and watched as Nathan eyes start to cloud. His body went limp as Caleb swallow hard.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” he asked. Kaydel just smile as she flicked her wrist to get Nathan to stand.

“Come Poe,” she said, “There’s so much more we have to get done.”

**El Paso 1869**

Viola was exhausted from the long trip. When she had bitten Armitage’s ear when he tried to force himself on her, Mallory gladly tied her to the back of the wagon and made her walk. She stumbled and fell a few times, ended up being dragged in some parts, but she made it to their next stop. So, here she was, slowly zoning in and out of consciousness, unknown to the figure that was approaching their camp. A large hand cupped her mouth as an arm wrapped around her waist. She was ready to scream and struggled till a familiar voice peaked her panic.

“Shhh… pumpkin, it’s just me,” Clyde whispered as he released her mouth before pulling out a knife to cut her free.

“Clyde, no, get out of here,” she hissed, “If they see you here, they’ll kill you.”

“They’d have to catch me first,” he answered as he offered her a hand.

“No, Clyde, you don’t understand. You have to leave, right now!”

“I’m not leaving without you,” he growled as he hoisted her over his shoulder and snuck away without being noticed.

She struggled and fought against, trying hard to find the strength to fight, but it was no used. Her body just gave up as he place her on his mount and they rode into the next town. He got them a room at a local inn where a warm bath was drawn for the both of them. Clyde did his best to clean ever scrap and bruise on her skin. His soft touch was welcoming as she just gave into him. While he brushed her hair, she asked how he found her.

“Amilyn read the note you left and something just didn’t seem right,” he said, “Why would you just up and leave and not tell anyone. Not tell me. I was angry till it hit me that Armitage was no where to be seen either. So, I figured he put you up to it. I demanded we start a search party, but Mallory had insisted that you were happier with Armitage.”

“Mallory was there?”

“Well, yeah. Where else would she be?”

Viola turned to face him, grasping his hand and held it tight.

“Clyde, listen to me,” she began, “You have to take me back to that camp site. If they find me gone, they’ll kill you and I can’t let that happen.”

“What? No, I’m not doing that,” he said, “I would rather lay my life down rather than see you back with that weasel.”

“A weasel am I?” Armitage asked from the doorway. Clyde immediately put himself in front of Viola and the Irishman laughed.

“Still as foolish as ever and never learns,” he chuckled, “It’ll be fun killing you.”

“No, wait, please,” Viola begged as she tried to get pass the burly man, “Take me instead. I won’t fight you anymore. I’ll go peaceful. Just spare him.”

“And why should I? This simpleton never learned any manners to be begin with,” he drew his pistol, “It’ll be fun to watch him die.”

“Viola, when I give the signal, you run,” Clyde said, “Run as far as you can and don’t look back.”

“Clyde don’t,” she whispered, but it was too late.

The one hand man charged at the Irishman. A gunshot was heard and Viola heard a scream that was not her own.

“YOU IDIOT!” Mallory scolded as she slapped him in the face, “She never left the campsite! He kidnapped her!”

Viola looked down at Clyde’s trembling body as he slowly bleed out.

“Clyde,” she whimpered as she knelt next to him, “Please don’t. You didn’t deserve this. I’m so sorry.”

“Run…” he strained to say, “Run… Kira…”

**Rome 201**

Padme looked over at her sleeping husband. He was a man of great wealth. He dined with those of the upper crest and sought council when invited. However, he was not someone that ignited her soul. Obi had warned about showing too much favoritism to the gladiator. Yet, it didn’t slow her beating her every time he entered into a room. Her eyes followed him everywhere he went and he may have noticed once or twice before pulling her away from a party to stare at the night sky together. He could name every constellation in the sky as well as point out Mars and Venus.   
 ****

“Vader, you have shown a new side of you that I would have never guess,” she jested.

“Anakin,” he said, “My really name is Anakin. Vader is for the crowds and the fights. With you, I want to be Anakin.”

Never had she experienced something so intimate as this. Soon, they would go on walks and talk about their other interests. She would laugh when he joked and cried when she heard to story of his mother. She may have admitted while drunk off of wine that she wished to kiss him. However Anakin wasn’t afraid to make his intentions very clear for one day before the bid farewell, he pulled her in for a kiss in front of her soon-to-be husband. Out of shock she slapped him across the face, but saw the knowing smirk as if he could tell she wanted him.

Now she looked over his sleeping form with more distant for him than the brute the world reviver. Without waking him, she grabbed a cloak and snuck out into the night. 

**Lisbon 1635**

“I love this garden,” Kira said as her and Francisco went out for a stroll, “The roses are beautiful this time of year.”  
 ****

“Father Borges takes pride in his roses,” the priest answered as he walked along with her, “I’ll let him know you approve.”

“Does he really want my approve?” she giggled.

“He often makes comments on your beauty. He thinks very highly of you,” he said snidely.

“Are you jealous, Father Garupe?” Kira asked as she raised an eyebrow, noting his ears are turning red, “You are.”

He glared slightly at her, but could hear someone coming. He took her hand and pulled her behind a large hedge wall, holding her close as they waited for whoever to pass. Kira turned her face towards his chest and took in his natural scent. She gripped his coat tighter wanting to bury herself in this scent. As she lifted her head, she could see his beautiful neck. Leaning forward, she graze her lips against his skin. She felt him stiffen slightly.

“Don’t…” he whispered.

“It’s just us,” she replied as he turned to look at her, “You’re so handsome…”

She smiled when she saw his cheeks color.

“So handsome,” she sighed and caressed his cheek.

Without another thought he leaned down to meet her lips and kissed you.

**Rome 355**

Vader had grown restless. They had taken his love and now he was going to make them pay. With his sword drawn, he entered into the home of the scholar who dare mock him. They were happy. They were finally happy and he had to ruin it. Bursting through the door he took out anyone who came in his way.   
 ****

_Yes... kill... kill... kill everyone and everything... destroy those who wish ill will against you..._

All Vader saw was red. Blood spilt everywhere as tore up the house looking for her. Women’s screams were silenced by his blade. Men dropped to their knees once it pierced them. Vases and doors toppled till he came upon the nursery. At least, he could kill the vile thing that drove a wedge between them. Then they can start all over again, to begin anew where their love can go on forever. 

_Kill the babe and eat its heart... you’ll be unstoppable... you and your love will be together… Eat the heart and prove your loyalty to me…_

“Anakin,” barked the voice of the scholar, “drop your weapon or I will shoot.”

He turned to find Obi with his arrow ready to strike. 

“You,” he growled, “You filled her head with lies, corrupted her mind to believe that I was a monster.”

“You did this,” Obi said, “You allowed your soul to be corrupted into thinking your happiness could be won by a simple reset.”

“I am now a man of great nobility! Rome is the a great power because of me! She is my empress and you will unhand her!”

“She is not yours to have,” the scholar said, suddenly looking much older, “She loves you for the man you were, not for what you’ve become. You’ve live too long that you’ve allow yourself to believe the snake’s lies.”

“Silence!” Vader shouted as he charged at the scholar. His blade will strike the old man down! No more could he feed his love lies. So his blade sliced, but not at the old scholar. It slit the chest of his beautiful Padme. Her blood was on his sword and her body fell at his feet. 

“No... no... my iris,” Anakin cried as he fell to his knees, “Not you... this was not supposed to happen.”

He wept as he held her body close. Obi lowered his weapon, feeling sorry for the once slave. He had made a deal with a monster that could only be undone if he paid the price. The baby in the cradle began to cry, alerting the scholar. When Anakin made no move from his deceased lover, Obi took the opportunity to comfort the baby. 

“He’ll want it...” the gladiator sniffled, “In order for this to begin again, I’d have to kill her or it... I would have never let her die...” he looked at his discarded sword, “Please Master, please kill me so I may be with her...”

Obi didn’t know what to do. He looked down at the baby as it sobbed before addressing Anakin one last time.

“And your son?”

“Take him far from this place. Show him to be a true man. Don’t let him fall for the same tricks as I did.”

Picking up the blade, Obi watched as he readied himself for his final fate.

“No matter how much I tried to sway her, her heart was always true to you,” the scholar said, “Remember that when you cross the river.”

“Thank you...” were his final words.

In one fluid motion, Obi pierced the emperor’s heart. 

**London 2019**

Rey was in tears as Maz finished her story.  
 ****

“A horrid sound could be heard through the city as if an animal had been wounded,” she continued, “However, taking Vader’s life has not stopped Snoke as he has chosen Kylo Ren to be his next victim. Rather than having both of you remember, it has seemed he only wishes for one of you to continue with the memories.”

“But why me? I don’t understand?” Rey trembled, “Why have I been left to suffer while he comes and goes as he pleases?”

“Because the first contract was made with another,” the older lady stated, “Someone who is envious of what you have. They think that by killing him, they are able to start over. The contract can only continue when they’ve eaten the heart of a child or they have righted the wrong of the past.”

“What wrong doing?” Fransisco asked, “Like me breaking my vows?”

“Whatever wrong doing the person thinks it is. It is hard to say. For Vader it was to kill the son he thought Padme had with Obi,” Maz said as she got up from her chair, “For Kylo Ren, it could be for the murder of his lover and child.”

“So vengeance?” Rey said coldly, “That’s what this whole thing is. We go and kill who did this to us first.”

She got up from the couch and made her way towards the door. She knew what she had to do. Ignoring as Maz and Fransisco called out for her, she set off on a dangerous quest. This madness ends tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I wrote a chapter. I hope you all enjoy this. I feel that this story may or may be coming to an end soon. I may do some more side stories with these characters, because we need more smut, right? Thank you all so much for your support. Thanks to Luciefee, Beebee8, and N for your amazing comments. Thank you all for your kudos, it means so much to me that there are still people enjoying this fic. Until next time. See ya.


	39. Protect Her

**London 2019**

Rey’s apartment was very small. It had a kitchenette, a living room with a curtain in the middle to divid where her bed was and a small bathroom. Under the bed, she kept a small gun box that held an Army Colt Revolver. It still had four bullets that were still good for firing. Clyde had showed her how to shoot it once and she had gifted it to her for her own protection. However, when she looked in the gun box, she found it empty.

“How?” she had said to herself before being blindsided by a punch to the head. Out of focus, she tried to get her baring again, but a large weight pinned her down as two hands gripped her wrist. When she went to scream, a gag was forced into her mouth as she felt something lock her hands into place.

“Whatever it takes,” she heard a familiar voice say, “Whatever it takes.”

She looked up a recognized the mop of curly hair and the dull brown eyes. She tried to wriggle away, but something in hair body went stiff as Nathan reaches for her pants. Slowly he unbuttoned them, pulled the zipper down and tugged on them with no effort.

_Please no... Poe was never like this... he was gentle... he was kind... please don’t make him..._

“Whatever it takes...” Nathan said as his eyes locked onto hers. She was helpless. There was no one to help her. Ben never knew where she lived and she had only seen Maz for the first time in so many years. Her only hope to survive was to just give in like she had done so many times with Armitage. So she closed her eyes and tried to relax her nerves.

_Think of nights with Kylo... think of quiet moments with Francisco... think of the lazy mornings with Clyde… think of the playful summers with Toby… think of the daring moves with Adam… think of the tender moments with Ben… think of…_

Then something wet hit her cheek. She opened her eyes to find Nathan frozen above her as he trembled, tears leaking from his eyes as he wept.

“I… I can’t… I… I won’t…” he leaned back on his heels and brought his hands to his face, “I can’t… I won’t… Kira… you never deserved this…”

**London 1570**

Poe looked over his kingdom. The world seemed so much more bleak since his wife’s passing. There seemed to be no point in day to day life. He didn’t feel the need to discuss the welfare of his kingdom and would often be caught in her chambers where she once laid. How strange it was for a man to find no woman appealing and his taste be suddenly changed. Now, he longed to hear her laugh, to see her smile and hear her quick wit. He would often visit the grave they had for her and her son, opening weeping and wishing to be in her place.

“Forgive for not letting you be happy,” he whispered, “I should have let you go... then you wouldn’t be here.”

“Your grace,” called Armitage, “What are you doing in such a place?”

Poe wipes his face as best as he could before turning to meet his companion.

“Just mourning the lost of someone close,” he simply said as his hand brushed over her name, “This is all my fault.”

“No…” the lord said as he came to comfort the king, “No, love, don’t think that. The baby… he was just too big for her and she lost so much blood. It was only a matter of time.”

“Still, I had seen the way she looked at him and the way he looked at her…”

“Pure imagination,” Armitage interjected, “The man was a monster. You should have seen the way he had her chained up, believing that it was for her own good. Now, she is no longer suffering.”

“Chained up? You said she had been tied up…”

“Chained up, tied up, what difference does it make,” the lord tried brushing off the comments, “What matters is that we were able to get her, before true harm was done to her.”

In loo of those comments, Poe decided to start a secret investigation on the matter. He had talked with the men that had gone to Paris. He had asked them if they had noticed any mistreatment of their queen in regards to her time in Paris. The men were honest in saying that she seemed health and free, looked more like a farmer’s wife than a woman of high rankers. He choice to take a trip out to the country home they had. Looking over the rooms, he found no prison that Armitage had talked over, just a bed of goose feathers, a table, a few chairs, and a cradle for the babe that they were expecting.

Poe over looked his kingdom as he waited for Armitage. Anger simmered in his soul, but guilt ate away at him more. He had allowed himself to be blinded by his own pride that he did not see where his wife could be truly satisfied. At least now he saw through the web of lies Armitage had built and he was finally going to confront him.

“You wished to speak to me, your grace?” he had asked as he entered the room.

“Close the door,” Poe commanded before facing him, “Do you love me, Armitage?”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Do you love me in the same way that I love you? Or do you think me a fool you can trick, so you can weasel your way into my courts?” the king stalked one to him and though he was taller, Poe never wavered, “I know of your past. You are a bastard. The only son of whore who didn’t want you and gave you to a father who didn’t love you. I was warned about you many times. I was told by allowing you into my court would lead to the downfall of my kingdom. But I didn’t care, I was charmed by you, enamored by you. I had hoped that by opening my heart to you that I could somehow save you, but clearly... I was wrong.”

Poe walked over to his desk and pulled out forms, documents and then finally a forged decree.

“Explain this,” he said.

“I don’t know what that is,” Armitage answered.

“Don’t lie to me!” Poe demanded as he slammed his fist, “This is a decree for your son to take the throne! He is of no royal blood! He is not my ward!”

“You married me to you cow of a cousin!” the lord responded, “You have no heir. You chance have a child is gone. Had I known she would have such an impact on you, I would have invited her here. Now, because of your foolishness, her death is on you hands.”

Armitage circled Poe, encroaching on his space, almost forcing him away from the desk.

“I did what had to be done,” he continued, “No heir and your wife’s wandering eye, it was no wonder you haven’t been dethroned. You should have listened to your advisors sooner. I did what I did to establish my line in this legacy... but I don’t need to do that,” he smirked, “I don’t need to do that at all,” he pulled Poe in for a final kiss, “Goodbye, my pet. You’ve done your part.”

With one big push, Poe was knocked out a large window. When he hit the ground, the last thing he remembered was a dark chuckled.

**London 2019**

Rey tried to console the distort man as he cried in her shoulder.

“I heard everything,” he whimpered, “All the horrible things they did to you. Oh, Kira... I’m so sorry. I should have protected you... forgive me... oh please, forgive me...”

“It’s all right, Poe,” she answered, “You didn’t know any of this.”

“My God! You have to run,” he panicked, “leave this place,” he started digging his pocket for his wallet and started handing bank notes, “Take this and get as far away from this place as possible.”

“Why? What’s going to happen?”

“They want you, Kira,” he said seriously, “for whatever they have planned, they want you.”

**Unknown ????**

Ben was lost. The fog was thick in front of him, but he kept walking. He wasn’t sure if it had been minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or years, he feet never gave out. Soon a light began to shine through the fog, bringing him upon a small storefront. When he opened the door, his nostrils were assaulted by the warm smell of fresher baked bread. As he approached the counter, he spotted a woman with her back towards him with an interesting 3 buns hairstyle and a black shirt on. When she turned, he saw Rey’s face. She smiled warmly before coming around to greet him. She pulled him in for a soft kiss.

“J'ai presque fini mon quart de travail,” she said against his lips, “Me rencontrer dans le dos?”

He must have had a confused look on his face, because she looked very concern when she pulled away.

“Are you all right, Adam?” the Rey look-a-like asked.

From behind him, he could hear children laughing. When he turned around, he saw a beach that stretched for miles. Two boys and a girl were chasing the waves as a small terrier barked at them. He felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist as a head leaned against his shoulder.

“I wished summer never ended,” Rey’s voice said in his ear, “Then Galen wouldn’t be so lonely.”

He turned around to find a different version of Rey as if she was style like the perfect housewife.

“Are you all right, Toby?” she asked, “You’re looking at me like I have two heads.”

A large black lab brushed past his leg as it ran towards a corn field. He heard Rey shouting obscenities towards the beast with a large ladle in her hand.

“Damn dog got into the kitchen again and knocked over the stew!” she glared at him, “Don’t just stand there like a fish with you mouth open, Clyde! Get him! He’s your mutt!”

“Will you come see me again, Father Garupe?” Rey had asked as her arms wrapped around his neck, “There so much more I could show you. I can show more places you can use that beautiful mouth.”

He found her in a loose robe and her hair gently tussled. She had never looked more alluring. He blindly nodded as she wickedly smirk, pulling him for a final kiss.

“It won’t be long now,” he heard her say as she laid against his chest, gently caressing her expanding belly, “Perhaps another month or so. What are you hoping for, mon amour?”

He was speechless at how breathtaking she was in the moment. He couldn’t con train himself and pulled her into his lap before kissing her. He made a small trail down her jaw and neck, earning a cheerful giggle.

“Mon cher, what has gotten into?”

“Don’t speak,” he whispered, “Just let me hold you.”

“You can’t,” came an echo from behind him. He turned to find himself, except it wasn’t him, it was a different version of him. He had much longer hair and fine mustache and goatee. He was dress in a tunic and trouser that were meant to worn in a Shakespeare play, but he held himself with such an air of dignity.

“I won’t let you have this moment,” his reflection said, “She was mine first.”

“You abandoned her,” spoke a version of him with one hand, “I went to rescue! She’s mine!”

“I married her! She was mine!” called a version of him dressed like a 1950’s movie director.

“I let her go,” said a priest who looked like him, “You married the witch!”

“I never got a chance to see her again!” cried a tattoo version of him, “I should have her!”

His head started to hurt as each version of himself fought over who had a right to go back. He covered his ears and knelt to the floor as they argued. It was getting loud. They surrounded him as he balled into himself. It was too much. He could handle it. All he wanted was to be with Rey. That’s all he wanted.

“Please… go away… Please… I just want to see her… Please…” he murmured over and over again until the arguing stopped.

He felt a gentle hand on his back, making him meet the face of a young woman with long, curl brown hair in a regal toga with baby’s breaths in her hair. She smiled at him.

“I know they can be very overbearing,” she said, “When there is so many of them, they all want the same thing, but don’t realized that they’re all the same person.”

She gestured towards the figures as they looked back that them.

“I don’t understand,” Ben answered looking back at the woman, “What does it all mean?”

“Your love is in grave danger,” the woman said, “The man known as Snoke wishes to corrupt her very soul, lead her into the path that my love once did. He will devour her whole unless you are willing to make the true sacrifice.”

“Which is?”

“A life for a life… Protect her at all cost…”

“I’ll protect her,” the version of him with tattoos stepped forward.

“I’ll protect her,” the version of him with one hand stepped forward.

“I’ll protect her,” the version of him as a director stepped forward.

“I’ll protect her,” the version of him as a  priest stepped forward.

“I will protect her,” the version of him the tunic and trouser stepped forward.

When Ben turned around, he saw he was standing in front of a mirror with all of them staring back.

“I will…” he answered them.

“Good,” the woman whispered, “She’s waiting for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is going to be coming to a close soon. I'm not ready to say goodbye, but I know the end is near. I promise you won't regret the ending. I'm a little sad. This has been my baby for so long, however I'm glad to see people are still enjoying. Thank you everyone for all the kudos, hits, and comments. I can't believe we're almost to 9000 hits. Hoping to hit 400 kudos before this story comes to a close, but that's probably not going to happen. Oh well, till next time.


	40. It Ends Now

**London 2019**

Mr. Tarkin could sense the change. He smirked. This was going to be far more interesting than the last time.  
 ****

**London 1565**

He had seen her as she wept. Tears of anger, her soul slowly spiraling into hate. _Oh… the delicious hate…_ He slithered on the ground, spread all around her like a fog.  
 ****

 _“You wish ill will on your husband,”_ he whispered in the young queen’s ear, _“You wish to do harm to those that do harm to you.”_

She looked around her, confused as she could not see him, but he could see her. A child who been mistreated by her superiors. To her husband a pet, to the hand of the king a pawn, to her ladies a stupid French girl, and to the artist… _Oh, that’s interesting…_

 _“You lust after someone you cannot have, bound by a phony marriage,”_ he continued, _“I can give you what you want. All you have to do is help me.”_

“Ma fille, what are you doing out here in the rain?” called a voice he hadn’t heard in a long time.

He turned to find her as an old woman, glaring at the space he occupied. The woman wrapped a blanket around the young queen and led her away from him. She shot one more glare at him before closing door and he laughed. _This was going to be very interesting._

**London 2019**

Ben was gasping for air as the older woman tried to get him to relax again. His head was still ringing with different voices in his head shouting at him to get up.  
 ****

“Ben Solo, you need to relax or they’re only going to get worst,” the woman said as he tried to get a hold of his breathing, “Just focus on my voice. Not them, just me.”

“I have to get to Snoke… He’s going to corrupt Rey’s soul… I need to end… this,” he said as he tried standing only to feel woozy. 

“Yes, but those men will fight for your body if you don’t relax. I can sense Clyde trying to wiggle his way into you.”

“And why shouldn’t I be here?!” he suddenedly shouted with a slight southern drawl.

“Because this is Ben’s body, not yours!” she retorted back and the voices went silent. Ben finally started to feel like himself again.

“Umm… Miss…”

“Maz is fine.”

“Maz… where is Rey?”

“She ran off to end this curse.”

“But she doesn’t even know who started it…”

**Bamberg 1590**

When he had arrived at the monetary, he had his paints and canvas. Kylo Ren promised the monks beautiful painting of their city as well their Lord and Savior for a place to stay. The monks welcomed him with open arms and for 5 years he painted. At night, under his cot, he would pull out the stolen painting. He would lay her face right next to him, talking to her about his day before falling asleep. Although miserable, he was content with this simple life. If he wasn’t painting, he was helping the monks with a project. Gardening, mending, or washing, he was there to earn more than his keep. Time went on, his hair got more grey, and he could see the wrinkles forming in his face. Slowly he was coming to terms with Kira’s death. No amount of wallowing was going to bring her back. Instead, he chose to see her in the world around him. He would often visit a poppy field and paint there, talking to the wind like she was next to him. With that, he could find contentment. He eased into his new life, till one day a ghost from his past came walking towards him.  
 ****

Her hair was blonde now, but her eyes were still the same as she approached him.

“My love,” Bazine said as she threw her arms around, “I’m so glad to see you again.”

She cupped his face a looked him over.

“Time has not been kind to you,” she said and tried to pull him along, “Come with me and we’ll fix it. We’ll start anew and have the life you’ve always dreamed of.”

He pulled away from her, going back to his easel.

“It is good to see you, Lady Bazine, but I’m afraid I am not the man you are looking for,” he had said as he continued to paint, “Go and find someone who can truly love you. I’m far too old for someone like you.”

“But I can make you young again,” she insisted as she threw herself at his feet, “You can be what you once were and we can be together. Like it was always meant to be.”

“Bazine are you deaf?” he asked in gruff tone, “I have loved and lost. My heart was only for Kira. Go and just leave me. Death will take me in the end…”

“Did you forget of your promise?” Her voice turned cold, “Or did you think you could get out that easily?”

The winds around him changed as she stood, gripping his face to look at her.

“You are _MINE_ … Do you understand? You were always _MINE_ …”

He felt something squeeze at his heart, it was becoming hard to breath. An evil smirk formed on her face.

“Don’t worry, my dear. We’ll just start this all over again,” she whispered before kissing him, stealing his last breath.

**London 2019**

Poe tried to convince her not go, but she had to. She had to end this. It had gone on for far too long. She waited for the witch in the park alone, not knowing that the once lady-in-waiting had other tricks up her sleeves. She felt her missing pistol pressed against her back as the woman rounded the corner.  
 ****

“So you’re finally giving in?” The young, blonde woman smirked.

“What choice do I have?” Rey answered as she felt Caleb shove her forward.

“Well, you could just relent. Give me what was mine all along,” Kaydel said, “and we just let you go.”

“He was never yours. You just didn’t know how to accept that and look what’s it’s done to you.”

“Me? Ha… I’ve never felt better,” she shook her head, “I’m as beautiful as ever, as strong as ever, and more powerful than you can imagine.”

“Till it weaken, right? Till you have to eat another heart or kill Kylo again?” Kaydel’s eyes grew wide at the comment. “You were convinced to take the pact and had to keep me alive, only for your own foolishness.”

“Shut up…”

“The thing is you never expected him to chose me every single time you started over, which proves you wrong.”

“Shut up!”

“Bazine, please, let go of the anger you hold towards us, towards me. If I have cause you so much suffering, I am sorry,” Rey felt the tears building before the woman in front of her slapped her.

“I said shut up, you miserable girl! Poor Kira, taken from her family so young, forced to marry a king who would never love her. Pathetic! I heard how sorry they felt for you, but no one raised a finger to help me when my heart was broken! I should have left you for dead! Or at least suffer in that prison where you belong!”

Rey looked up as she thought she saw a haggard woman peeking from the young facade, however Bazine composed herself once more. Her young face snapped back into place like nothing happened.

“No mater. It won’t be much longer now. Obviously, Armitage couldn’t do his job. So, I guess I’ll just have to do it myself.”

“What are you doing?” Caleb asked in a panic, “No... stop! You said we were in this together! Wait! Wait!”

Rey heard a loud gunshot and a body drop. She turned around in horror. His blood split from the gunshot from his head as his body slowly withered away. Rey gasped as she watched into turn to dust. Kaydel picked up the discarded revolver and kicked away any remnants of the old lord. She handed the pistol to Rey.

“Try anything and you’ll be dealt the same fate.”

**London 1575**

Bazine smiled as she watched the young queen cry. She had loved delivering the news of her baby. She loved watching her claw at the door and beg to be killed. She loved it more when she cried.   
 ****

“You’ve done well, my apprentice,” the dark smoke said as it formed a tall man with a gnarled face, “She’ll be ready soon. Prepare her for her trip.”

“Yes, Master Snoke.”

**London 2019**

Rey was brought the manor of Master Tarkin with the pistol tucked behind her back. Bazine pushed towards a cellar and they traveled deep under ground. What awaited her was a cell she had known from the past. She could still see the tics she had etched into the wall long ago. She turned towards the witch as she locked the door to her cell.  
 ****

“So what was the point of having Hux for so long?” Rey asked.

“He was meant to break you, but clearly it never worked.”

“What now then? Are you just going to lock me away? What is to stop me from turning the gun on myself?”

“No, bullets,” Bazine giggled as she showed the off to her, “Snoke will want to see you soon. Soon enough we’ll be begin again. It was clear you weren’t ready to head out.”

Ben watched from behind a bush as Kaydel appeared back from the cellar. Once she was inside the house, Ben made his way to the door. He was grateful that the door was open. Taking a deep breath, he descended down the stairs until he came upon a door.

“Rey,” he whispered, “Rey, are you there?”

“Ben…” she came up to the small bar window with a look of concern, “Get out of here. This isn’t your battle to fight.”

He tested the pressure of the door.

“Back away. I think I can get it open,” he said. With three kicks, he had the rotted door opened.

“Ben, please,” she tried pushing out, “Go. This does not concern you.”

“It concerns me more than ever,” he said, “Rey, it’s not Kylo who cursed you. It was Bazine.”

“Must you speak so unkindly while I’m here,” the woman’s voice echoed through the chambers.

She appeared out of thin air in front of them as Ben put himself between them.

“Haha… you’re just as foolish as ever, Kylo,” she smirked, “When will you learn that protect her will only lead to your demise?”

“As soon as you get the hint, you crazy witch,” he growled, “Every version was the same. No matter what tricks you tried, it was always the same outcome. You separated us, killed loved ones, tortured her, tortured me, but I’m ending this now!”

“With what power? Snoke gifted me with everything I need. With a snap of my fingers I could end your life and start anew whenever I please… In fact…” with a flick of her wrist Ben was knelt on the floor, “that’s what I’ll do right now.”

**London 1565**

He was a blackness that hung over her head before forming into the gnarled being. He bowed at her like she was of royalty.  
 ****

“My knew apprentice,” he hissed, “How pleased it is to see you.”

“Who are you?” Bazine asked.

“I’ve gone by many names. Evil, chaos, hatred, disgust, jealousy, but Snoke is the name I prefer.”

“Why?”

“It’s the name I’ve given myself,” he simply said as he walked around her, “I sense great potential in you, a great… _hatred_ … It stews deep within you, but by consume that heart, it is clear you have a desire for more.”

“More of what?”

“More beauty, more strength, more wit, and more power,” he continued, “And under my guidance, you can get that. However it will come at a price.”

She nodded for the man to continue.

“In order for you get what you desire, you must pay a toll. Your life for the life of another. As long as your desires are out of reach, you’ll remain in servitude to me. However, if you can corrupt another soul like yours, you’ll get everything.”

“How do I do that?”

“Make them _hate…_ ”

**London 2019**

Rey was dumbfound to find Ben facing her on his knees. In a matter of seconds, her hand pulled the pistol, cocked and pointed at his forehead, all on its own.  
 ****

“If that bastard couldn’t corrupt you, I’ll just do it myself,” Bazine said.

“Rey…” Ben spoke softly.

“Haha… it’s perfect! I should have done this sooner! In a matter of moments you’ll watch your love die, but at your own hand. Pure poetry!”

Rey was trembling as Ben nodded.

“It’s okay. Je te pardonne. Je t’aime. Je t'ai toujours aimé,” he whispered, “I just wished I said it sooner…”

**London 1565**

With her new found powers, Bazine was ready to storm the castle. She would make them pay for what they did her.  
 ****

“I’ll make her hang from her pretty hair,” she cackled.

“Be careful what you wish for,” the voice whispered, “If she takes her own life, your soul… _is mine…”_

**London 2019**

Ben waited for a death that never came.  
 ****

“Je t'aime aussi. Je suis à vous…” Rey answered, “Pour toujours…”

“Don’t!” he heard Bazine screamed followed by a gunshot.

When he opened his eyes, Rey’s body fell forward for him to catch.

“No! You fool… AHHHHH!!!” Her screams howled through the halls as a dark force encapsulated her. A dark chuckled followed as the room slowly disappeared around them. When Ben opened his eyes, he found himself in a poppy field as he cradled his love.

“Rey…” he said softly, but she was gone. No goodbye. No farewell. Just an empty husk that slowly turned to dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UUUUGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!! I don't like writing death! I'm sorry. Catch in the next chapter! Okay!


	41. Epilogue

**London 2021**

It was a slow process, but Ben was proud of what he was able to do. A gallery filled with her finest works and no one knew that is was all done by the same woman. Kira Leclair, Viola Eade,  Mary Debenham, Daisy Ridley, And Rey Andor were all the same persons. To the rest of the world, they were just very talented women who captured their hearts with their stories and art. He had Galen to thank for being able to local all of this art. It ranged from simple flowers in vases to portrait of people to these grand abstracts that were riddled with pain, agony and hope. Looking at each piece as he was restoring had been a great coping mechanism for him. He tried hard to keep his tears from mixing with the solvents, but sometimes they would leak into a piece by accident. With each stroke of his brush as he fixed each piece he imagined what she might have been thinking about, if she was sad or scared or unsure of things. How much of him was Kylo to her or was he just a combination of all the men she loved?   
 ****

“She would have loved this,” the old writer said as he stood next to the young artist, “especially your piece.”

In the very back of the exhibit was a Ben Solo original, a mural of all of her personas on one canvas with the young queen in the center and her other versions surrounding her. Many commented on how similar their faces look, but only Ben and Galen knew the truth. 

“I miss her,” he admitted to his new friend. 

“And she missed you every time you left. I remember the night she told me she found you again, she was so happy,” he chuckled, “I think she adored you the most.”

“You don’t have to flatter me,” Ben halfheartedly laugh. 

“I’m serious. She told me about how much she loved your work and how she felt that you were the one she had been looking for. I’m just glad you didn’t end up like the rest of them.”

“It’s almost unfair... I end up trying to save her, only for her to die in the end.”

“She had been ready to go for a very long time.”

Ben felt the tears welling up again as Galen pulled him in for a tight hug. He knew she wanted to go, but he hadn’t been ready for her. He had hoped for more time. He had once he had broken the curse that they could finally be together. There was so much he wanted to do with her. Or maybe he had already done so much with her already. The memories were still jumbled in his mind and would sometimes seep into his dreams. 

One night he was a priest breaking his vows to enjoy the pleasures of the skin. Another night he was a famous director hiding in a private beach where his love and kids played together. Another night he’s a union soldier with a missing hand enjoying a nap with her under an apple tree. Some nights he’s some tattooed beast going to town on her in a dark alleyway where they could get caught. Any of those dreams were pleasant, but the most special ones were of her posing as he sketched her. Long auburn locks that spilt over her body like a waterfall, a beautiful, playful smile across her face and eyes that dared him to come close just reminded him of how empty his life felt now. A part of him that could not be filled, but the memories made up for it. Sometimes he would take one too many sleeping pills just so he could stay in those memories longer. Galen ended up taking them away from him to keep it from hindering his project. 

_“You have to finish this, Ben. If not for yourself, do it for her.”_

Ben wiped his face with his sleeve. Taking a deep breath, he had to relax. 

“You know, you don’t have to talk to these people if you don’t want to,” the older man said, “Your uncle could step in for you.”

He shook his head.

“No one knows her better than me,” he said with a small smile, “Beside it’s what she would have wanted.”

When he gave his speech, Galen, his Uncle Luke, and his mother were in the very front row. A few rows in he spotted Nathan with his mess of curls nodding in acknowledgment. Finn and Rose were there with their newest bundle of joy and Gwen stood in the very back, all of them waiting for him to give his speech.

“I’d first like to thank you all for coming. This project has taken up quite of bit of time for me and it means so much to me that you’ve supported me for this,” he started before taking a drink of water, “My father was an artist. Though he may be my infamous than famous, people still knew who he was. He would take me to different art showings and we would stare at each work, pick them apart and think of how we could have done it better. This was why he was so good at making forgeries and was never caught, because he could dissect a piece and tell you what made it good and how to make it great. And that’s what these piece are behind me. Great works of art that the public has to see.”

“Queen Kira Leclair was a forgotten queen from a forgotten kingdom who fall in love with an art who had no fortunes to his name. During this secret love affair, the artist known as Kylo Ren taught her his craft. Many of her pieces that you see range from compositions of fruit and flowers. It was said the queen often favored painting her garden the most. Next you’ll travel to the 1600’s where a mysterious woman by the name of Kira as well was able to perfectly capture Lisbon in its time. The grand churches and city streets seemed to be her forte, however the portrait of the late Father Garupe is one of her finest pieces.”

“Next you’ll enter into the America after its greatest war. Viola Eade was a woman ahead of her time. She owned and ran her own farm and was a very successful business woman. Though Clyde Logan wrote fondly of her, saying, ‘Her art spoke of her true passion.’ _Union_ _Boys_ is her most prominent piece as it features Clyde and his brother, Jimmy, dressed in their old uniforms. You can see their worn and ragged looks in their faces from war, but behind their eyes, sparks of hope do apart.”

“Then we jump into the era of Hollywood in its prime. Mary Debenham was a nanny for acclaimed film director Toby Grisoni and the mother of renowned author, Galen Grisoni. Her tends to be a variety of different landscapes from their home in Malibu to the experimental abstract art of the time. Chaos and uncertainty lie within those colors, but you could tell by each stroke you can feel her anger and frustration she was feeling after the murder of her husband. Galen had said she had taken his death very hard and though tried to keep a good face on, she was never the same.”

“Bamberg in the 1980’s is where we find our next artist. A young woman by the name of Daisy Ridley mainly spent most of her time designing tattoos. You’ll see some of traditional forms of spiders, satanic demons, fire, and other hellish figures, but her best piece was of the city at night. It was said that she spend hours on one hill that over looked to city just get it right.”

“And finally we come to a young artist who…” he was starting to shake, “who never got an opportunity to display her art… Rey Andor was a student at the University of the Arts in London… she was an intern who worked on the Kylo Ren project… She was smart, clever, had a sharp tongue and was childish at times… but she saw beauty in everything…” he cleared his throat as he kept his tears at by, “Her art is meanly reinterpretations of classic pieces, but an original was found that speaks volumes. An abstract piece feature a male figure, his body is made out of different constellations as a bright light surrounds him. She said that was inspired by a man she loved very much… a believe that he was a shining beckon like the stars.”

He thanked everyone for coming as the applauded for him. He didn’t deserve this notoriety. This was all Rey. Every single piece told of her long journey. The struggle she went through. Her suffering, her joys, her sorrows and her hopes bleed into each canvas. He watched Luke walk various people to some of his favorite pieces, describe what the artist must be feeling at the time. Gwen was cooing over the new bundle of joy Rose had in her arms as Nathan and Finn shared a laugh.

“She would have loved this,” he heard his mother say to him with a warm smile, “and your father would have been very proud.”

“Thanks, Mom… I should have married her sooner…”

“Sometimes these things just happen and we can’t explain them, but I could tell you were very much in love. I think that’s all that matters.”

He let out a deep sigh and hugged her.

The overall reception was well received as people slowly left the gallery. He shook Finn’s hand and wished him luck on being a new father. He gave Gwen a hug and told her he would be back at the institution for their next project. He remind Galen that they were having lunch tomorrow to discuss his next book he was working. He thanked Luke and Leia for being there and gladly accepted their dinner invitation for the following evening. He told the security guard to give him a moment before locking up. Soon it was just him and the paintings. He walked through each area slowly feeling his mind shift. A memory would spark with some pieces. Others made his mind fester. When he got to the end where his large piece was, he found a small old lady standing there.

“Maz?”

She turned and smiled at him.

“Good to see you’re in your own body again,” she said, “I love this one. The oranges, reds, and yellows are just amazing. You’ve really captured her spirit.”

“Maybe I had some help from Kylo Ren,” he said as he stood next to her, looking over the canvas.

“No. This is all Ben Solo,” the old lady smirked, “A true original.”

“I never thanked for your help. And Rey…”

“Is much closer than you think.”

“In like a heavenly sense?”

She smiled with a cheeky sparkle in her eye, before looking over her shoulder. He followed her gaze and froze. There she was in a green summer dress with her hair in a braid and those paint stained chucks she loved so much. She smiled at him and he launched himself at her. Picking her up and spinning around like she weighed nothing as she laughed the entire time. When he put her down, he held her face to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“Is it really?” She nodded with tears of joy rolling down her cheeks.

“I love you,” Ben said as he pulled her in for a kiss, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I know,” she giggled after ever kiss.

“But how?”

“Snoke isn’t the only one who can grant second chances,” Maz said as she hobbled over to the couple, “Your heart was in the right place when you let her go. Though you suffered, it was clear you wanted what was best for her in the end. I just chose to rewrite the ending.”

She winked.

“To your friends and family, it’ll be like you never left, my dear. And you two can finally have the ending that you want. Do make the most of it.”

“Thank you,” he said, hugging the old lady, “Thank you so much.”

With that, he took Rey’s hand and led her out the door to their awaiting future. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! That's it. I'm done! Ugh! What a beast this was! OMG! I'm so glad to be done with this. I was afraid this was just going to go on forever. I want to thank everyone who has been reading this. Thanks to Lucifee for helping me with my French as always. Thanks to N, Beebee8, Zombie_Queen, helloimindellaware, Jess444, Kikyorocks, Brizeeboo, and everyone else who left comments. Without you, this story would not be what it is. Thank you guys for supporting me in taking it in a different direction. 41 chapters and I'm done, however, may or not do some extra chapters about our love birds and some of your favorite pairs.
> 
> Now off to the next story about Rey and Kylo's force bond. Till next time.


	42. One Shot: San Diego

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night Toby found out Mary was pregnant.

**San Diego 1946**

He had planned a nice getaway weekend with Mary. The children were going to spend it with their grandparents in Atherton and he had ordered a cab to pick up Mary. The story he had told his wife was that he was needed on set the entire weekend and felt that she may need sometime to herself. He said whatever she wanted to do, it didn’t matter. 

“Spend as much as you want,” he had said when he handed her to checkbook, because really, he was going to do the same.

The room was just a simple suite with a large king size mattress and a view of the ocean. He knew how much she loved the sea. When he opened the doors to the balcony, the salt air washed over the room. He pulled out a portable recorded player, he selected a record with soft jazz. He chilled the champagne till he heard a knock at the door. Taking a deep breath, he checked his appearance once more. Hair smooth back and shirt open by the first two button to give a more casual look, he went to open the door.

She was a vision in white, with ruby lips that were ready to be devoured and sparkling hazel eyes that glowed in the soft lighting of the hall.

“Glad you could make, Miss Debenham,” Toby said as he stepped aside, allowing her to walk in.

“I have something to tell you, Toby,” she said nervously as fiddled with her wide brimmed hat in her hand.

“It can wait till later,” he answered before sweeping her up in his arms in for a powerful kiss.

He loved the feeling for her relaxing into his hold, how well she fit in his arms. With a light nibble on her bottom lip, his tongue set to explore as he edged her towards the a waiting bed. Once her knees hit the edge and she fell over, Toby dropped to his, cupping the back of her knees and spreading them wide. Lifting up her skirt, he found she was wearing a lovely pair of silk briefs from the lingerie set he had bought her. He looked up to find the nanny blushes, not meeting his intense gaze. He smirked as he ran his thumb along the fabric.

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. When I saw it in the store front, I knew you had to have them,” he murmured, pulled the underwear aside and spread open her glistening sex, “It seems like you’ve been think about it too.”

Mary keened as he licked her awaiting pussy, teasing her entrance with his tongue. She felt hot all over as his plush lips encapsulated her throbbing clit. His large fingers pushed into her as she softly moan, turning her head to the side. Forgotten in a matter of seconds were all her worries, because for now he was showing her how much he truly loved her. He chuckled against her sex, making her twitch at the vibrations.

“God you’re beautiful,” he whispered as his fingers curved into her, rubbing against the gummy roof that made her toe curl, “You’re even more beautiful when you come.”

His thumb rubbed her clit frantically as Mary’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. He watched as her nipples began to appear under her lovely, white dress. He smirked as she clawed the comforter underneath her and bit her lip. His favorite part was when she spoke French.

“Je suis ejaculer… ah… Je ne peux pas… mon cher… ahh… Toby…”

With her eyes closed and her mouth open to let out a silent scream, Toby wished he could film this moment, because if she ever left, he could look back at this wonderful moment. Perhaps he could convince the kids when they were older how important it is to have their nanny. He leaned over her, capturing her lips once more as he slowly pulled his fingers out. As she slowly caught her breath, Toby began to assist her out of her dress.

“Champagne?” he asked as he kissed her neck.

“What? Oh… umm… no, thank you, mon amour,” she answered as her shoes were tossed aside.

“Just straight to business then,” he smirked as he unbutton his shirt, eyeing her waiting breasts.

Then he noticed something he hadn’t seen before.

“Did you do something to them?” 

“To what?”

“Your breasts… they look… bigger.”

“Oh, no…”

“Mary, I’m not going to get upset if you got a boob job, but you didn’t need to.”

“They’re not fake. It just… happens…”

He stopped undoing his belt.

“What do you mean it just happens?”

She suddenly had an interest in her hands as she tried to find the words to explain.

“Toby, I’m pregnant,” Mary said as she met his gaze, eyes slightly watery, “I hadn’t been feeling like myself lately and had gone to the doctors… So…”

He was dumbfounded as the young woman in front of him was shaking. She must have been terrified to tell him.

“I didn’t think it would happen and understand if you want to fire me, but I won’t get rid of it… I’ve always wanted a child for so long… I don’t think you even understand,” before she could finish, Toby got back on the bed and kissed her.

He wanted her to know that he wasn’t mad. He heard all the stories from fellow directors on how they paid off the mistresses who got knocked-up, to keep them from going to the press, but Toby was over the moon right now. He should have noticed the heavenly glow she had suddenly got or the way her hand would fall to his stomach.

“How long?” he asked as he kissed her jawline to her ear.

“About 8 weeks,” she sighed, relaxing once more, “Soon I won’t be able to hide it.”

“I couldn’t give a damn if you did,” he answered as his hand rested on her stomach, “You’re going to have my child. Our child… I don’t think I’ve ever been more in love with you.”

“Toby, please,” she giggled as he got up to remove the rest of his clothes.

“I’m going to make love to you, Mary Debenham,” he confessed, “In every moment we are together, I want you to feel my love for you right now.”

Her breath hitched as he put himself between her legs. He kissed her softly as he slowly entered her.

“You’re going have our baby,” he whispered as he began to rock into her.

Mary’s fingers threaded into his lock as their lips brushed against each other. She spoke his name in a whispered as she enjoyed this moment. In the arms of the man who had shown nothing by adoration for her, she could finally be at ease with this new development in her life. How they were going to go through with it, she had no idea, but for now, she was happy he was thrilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short story I wrote this morning and now can post. Hope you like it.


	43. One Shot: Sheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam and Daisy argue about how the bed should be made.

**Bamberg 1984**

Whenever Adam and Daisy got in an argument, Adam would take her paints and hide them in various spots of the apartment. She would find them buried in the mattress or on top of her fridge or behind her mirror. Sometimes she would find them in the same day or a month after the fact. It was annoying and would sometimes bring up whatever little thing they had been arguing about. Once, Adam got so feed up with how she wanted him to make the bed, that he just threw her down on it and kissed her. She bit his lip, telling him that it wasn’t going to solve anything, until he pulled off the black thong she was wearing and began eating her out.

“Ah… fuck…” she hissed, “Misérable homme…”

In a matter of seconds, he had her on her stomach with her legs spread and his cock deep inside of her.

“Fuck you,” he growled in her ear, “What difference does it make how the bed is made if we’re just going to fuck on it anyways.”

“We… don’t… ah… fuck,” she answered as he slapped her ass.

“What are we doing now?” Adam gritted as he gripped her throat and pulled her flush against his chest.

“Va te faire foutre,” she bit as he smacked her ass again.

His thrusts were hard and determined as Daisy felt herself losing herself in the moment. They were fucking. Hard and rough as Adam’s hot breath grazed her cheek. Her nails dug into the bed sheets under her as she heard skin slamming against.

“Why are you like this?” Adam huffed as his hands tugged at her loose top, “It’s just a bed.”

“That’s not the point… Ahhh…” she keened as he tugged at her nipples.

“No one acmes here… except us… Unless there is someone else…”

“How dare you,” Daisy growled as he turned her over, slapping her clit lightly and making her jump.

“Be nice,” he smirked before kissing her hard, “Fuck.”

He two fingers inside of her and she arched her back. She couldn’t take it anymore. She was too over stimulated for this as she was on the brink.

“Please… Adam…”

“Daddy,” he growled.

“Yes Daddy,” she answered as her thighs twitched, making a mess all over the clean sheets. He knelt in front of her face and pumped his spend all over her, chuckling from the high he felt.

“Now we’ll just have to put clean sheets,” Adam sighed as she pushed him off of her.


	44. One Shot: Apple Picking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viola picks apples. Clyde picks Viola.

**New Orleans 1868**

There was nothing like apple picking in the late summer. With her basket in hand, Viola picked from the low branches as Strawberry waddled in front and Amilyn made her rounds from behind. She loved the smell of the apples and made sure to pick the ones that smelt the best.

“Planning on making a pie, Pumpkin?” she heard the Virginian man ask her as he bit into the one she had in her hand.

“Clyde Logan, go on!” Viola hissed, “Pick your own apples.”

“Can’t really do much picking with one hand,” he noted, “Besides, I’d much rather have yours.”

He leaned in for a kiss, but Viola pushed him away, running deeper into the orchard. He ran after her despite Amilyn yelling at the two to behave themselves.

“ _Have some decency for yourself, Viola,”_ she had told the young woman one night, _“He may have been a soldier, but he is a man with no titles to his name.”_

Viola couldn’t give a damn about titles or what was proper all she knew is that the Union soldier only had eyes for her. She saw it in the way he stared at her at meal time, when he watched her come out of the hen house or in the late hours of the love making. Clyde truly was madly in love with her. It was in the shameless way he kissed her, when he held her close or when he counted her freckles. She could feel it radiating, like the sun on a summer’s day. And for once, she wasn’t afraid of that love.

Down the lane she ran, until he jumped out from behind a tree. She screamed when he scared her and squealed as he threw her over his shoulder.

“Clyde Logan, you brute!” Viola giggled as the apples fell from her basket, “Look at the mess you made!”

“Ain’t see no mess here,” he chuckled as he carried her up the hill.

She playful beat on his back as they slowly made it to the top. When they made it to the top, he placed her gently back on her feet with ease and brushed away the strand hairs that were falling out from her bun. He smiled softly at her as she met his warm gaze.

When he looked at her, she felt like she the most important person in the world. In those deep, brown eyes, she felt like she was looking straight into heaven. Perhaps, this would be the final one, the one she had been looking for.

“I love you, Viola Eade,” he whispered and her breath hitched.

Her eyes began to water as her heart seemed to stop. _He had never said those words before._ Without another thought, she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with everything she had. He was everything to her and so much more. If only he knew how much this moment meant to her, to hear those words spoken from his mouth. He returned the kiss, pulling waist closer and cupping her neck just right as she clawed for purchase.

“Je t’aime, amour,” she answered against his mouth, “Je t'aime tellement.”

Clyde chuckled as their nose bumped against each others.

“I guess that’s a good thing,” he smile, “Je t’aime.”


	45. One Shot: Call of the Night Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francisco and Kira try something new.

**Lisbon 1635**

Francisco felt his heart pounding. He shouldn’t be doing this, yet something deep within his soul kept him coming back for more. He watched as she slipped out of her shift with ease, displaying her body to him without shame. Her smile never wavered as she lowered herself to her knees, placing herself between his legs. He released a shaker breath when she kissed his pale, inner thigh, leaving a rouse saint from her lips before slowly opening her mouth to take his cock. 

“Wait,” he gasped, making her stop and look up at him, “You... you shouldn’t do that...”

“Francisco,” she sighed, tucking her long hair behind her ear, “I want to do this.”

“But... it seems so... belittling.” Kira cocked her eyebrow as the priest leaned forward. He captured her lips so gently that was sure she would faint from it. He helped from her knees back onto the bed and caressed her body. His hands inched to her coveted spot so he could caress that as well, but she grabbed his wrist to prevent.

“There is another way...” she blushed, “Do you trust me?”

“More than you know.” Kira smiled as she pushed him back down on the bed. This was something she had only done once before in her pervious life, but the last thing she wanted to do was startle the priest. She kissed him once more before shifting herself so her rear faced him and she faced his throbbing cock. He let out another shaky breath. His heart was racing as he was faced with her more delicate parts. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do as he felt her hand on his privates.

“Relax,” she said, “Explore. I won’t break as easily as you think.”

Francisco swallowed hard as he felt her breath on his loins once more, her tongue caressing the tip of his penis as if it were a sweet treat. His mind as a blur of pleasure at that moment while he continued to stare at the beauty of her nether folds. His hands came up to her buttocks, enjoying the softness of her skin before finding the courage to take the plunge. He started with quick licks, feeling her thighs twitch slightly before placing an open mouth kiss on her sex. She gasped, releasing his cock from her mouth and just used her hand to pleasure him.

“Lower,” she said as she adjusted herself further back and sinking lower so all he saw was her, open, wet, and wantoning.

It reminded of a peach when he looked up at her, but the taste made him feel like he was in the ocean. He groaned when he felt her lips upon him once more making her twitch from the vibration. In a sense they were one, a coupling that Francisco didn’t know how to describe, but it still felt heavenly. The way her hips moved against his mouth made him feel like he had to be do something right. He could feel the tightening in his sac as she brought him closer to the edge. However, she stopped, adjusting herself so she was facing him, sitting astride his cock like he was a noble stead and her auburn cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall.

“Francisco,” she gasped as she rode him, “My love, mon amour, please.”

He wasn’t sure what she was begging for, but whatever he was, he would provide. He raised himself up to suckle on her teat, making her scream as her nails dug into his flesh, sure to leave scars that he wouldn’t know how to explain the next day. He didn’t care. Right now in this moment, he was experiencing the most heavenly man was ever meant to do. He was experiencing love. A different kind of love that he had fallen prey to the moment he found her in the shipyard. It was love that cried out into the night air, unafraid of who would hear. If they were caught, he would gladly throw himself on the blade for her. Kira deserved nothing more than the world, but only asked for him, for  his lips, for his body, for his soul. Never would he thought he would ever turn away from his oath, but for her, he would give up everything and more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A one shot, because I haven’t done one in a long time and that was the plan to do all along. Ummm... yeah. I want to thank everyone for the continued support. This is a fic that is very dear to me and I couldn’t be happier with it. Thank you all for over 10000 hits and nearly 420 kudos. I hope to write more one shots in the future, but we’ll have to see with work and I’m also getting over a cold. Gross. If you haven’t done it yet, please check out my new fic Ghouls. It’s a fic inspired by The Dead Don’t Die trailer. Can’t wait to see that bad boy when it comes out. So... yeah... until next time.


	46. One Shot: I Feel It Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and Kira together find a way to get over their anxiety of bringing a new life into the world.

**Paris 1564**

It had been a long day, but with the money he had made from the marketplace, Kylo would finally have enough to buy his new bride that beautiful hair. He approached the shop and greeted the clerk. They had a pleasant exchange about business and the day they were having before Kylo pointed out the little gold plated piece designed to look like a poppy with ruby and discolors diamonds. If the shopkeeper sold to noblemen, there would be no way Kylo would have ben able to afford the piece, but he respected the art form nevertheless. When he presented the man with the coins, he shook his head and gave it to him.

“A gift to your wife and your child,” the clerk said with a smile, “She’s due any day now?”

“Doctor said another month,” Kylo chuckled as he watched him wrap the gift up.

“Well, I wish you and your wife for a healthy and a happy girl,” he winked as he haded him the package.

“Girl?”

“They tend to be a lot easier and besides, have you seen your wife? The world could use more beautiful creatures like her.”

Kylo thanked the clerk and promised he would be the first to know about their new born. He was sure to invite him to the Christening of their child. A daughter would be nice. He imagine a girl with the same auburn locks as Kira, a freckled nose and a toothy grin to match. When he finally made it to the cottage where they had made their new home, he patted the heifer on its side and tossed an apple to the pig. He entered his home to find her leaning over a pot as she fanned herself with a handkerchief. She was radiant. Her belly round, her breasts had grown larger and she was practically glowing. Though she complained about the weight and pain and swelling, Kylo would catch her in the quiet moments in their home whispering to their unborn child how much she loved them. When he closed the door, she turned towards him and scowled.

“You are late,” she sniped as she looked over her stew again, giving him her back, and he chuckled. Reaching into his pouch, he pulled out the hair clip and slowly approached her. He took part of her hair and clipped it with the new hair piece. He gently kissed her cheek and neck before resting his hands on her belly.

“I was buying you a gift,” he purred in her ear before suckling on it.

“Kylo,” she sighed as she tried wrangle from his grasp, but he wouldn’t let go, “The stew...”

“Leave it,” he rumbled as his hands roam upward, feeling every curve in her body while his lips traveled to her neck. He found the spot that made her weak as her body shifted against him.

“But...” she whimpered as his thumbs found her sensitive nipples through the thin blouse she had on. He found a mitt to move the stew away from the fire before sweeping her off her feet. She shrieked in surprise that he still had the strength to lift her up. She was completely dazed when she met his playful smirk. He carried her across the room into their small bedroom and laid her down on the bed of goose feathers. He knelt down and started to remove her shoes. He gingerly took her swollen feet and massaged one after the other. Kira relaxed into the bed, humming softly as her husband took care of her aching feet. 

“You must be exhausted from a long day by yourself,” Kylo said. 

“Not really,” Kira giggled, “The cow shared the same aches as me.”

“What if she ends up birthing the same day as you?”

“Then I’ll have someone to sympathize with,” she continued to laugh as her love started to kiss her leg. He inched his way closer and closer to her sex, Kira stopped him, her heart racing.

“What’s wrong, love?” Kylo asked.

“We shouldn’t,” she replied, “I mean... it’s not that I don’t want to, but... the baby...”

She had been on edge ever since they found out she had conceived. She was careful with everything she did, having Kylo take on more over the heavier burden, out of the fear of the unknown. She had refused many of his sexual advances out of what it could lead. The little voice in her head never seemed to quiet long enough for her to just let go and have Kylo take care of her. However the anxiety would build like a volcano ready to erupt. She felt trapped by her own anatomy and didn’t know what to do.

“Kira,” he said sweetly, bring her to look up at those soft brown eyes of his. The voices suddenly ceased and a gentle hum seemed to whisper in her ears. “Do you not want me? Or do you fear that I find you undesirable?”

“No, never,” she replied quickly, cupping his face as her eyes drifted to his waiting lips, “It’s just...”

“The baby,” he answered as he placed hand on her stomach. A tear rolled down her face as he saw for the first time her face riddled with doubt, concern and fear. He had been nothing but patience with her, tending to her ever need and soothing her when she needed it. Now, it seemed she had needed him more than every to place those doubts aside and let her know how truly resilient she was.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered as he rested his forehead against hers, “I feel it too.”

He watched her eyes flutter shut as a peace settled between them. He waited. If nothing happened than he was fine with that. He had waited so long for her, he was willing to go the distance for her. So, it surprised him when she grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him fully on the lips for the first time in a long time. He smiled against her lips as he responded by deepen their bond. Clothes quickly fell in a mess on the floor as his wife readily climbed on his lap. Heavy with child, she straddled him like he was a noble steed and rode him like she was galloping across a field. He loved every minute of it. And though it was over before they had begun, they were both a panting mess of giggles and sweet nothings.

“I love you,” she said softly.

“I know,” he responded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lovely little one shot with Kylo and Kira, the couple that started it all. Hope you all enjoy it. It warms my heart to see that people are still reading this fic. It’s one that I worked so hard and still think about to this day. If you haven’t yet, just out my other fic called Ghouls, inspired by the Dead Don’t Die trailer. I need to get back into writing again, but I’ve fallen into the roadblock known as writer’s block. Hoping to see the movie in the future to get more inspired, but we’ll see. Summer is in full swing and I work at the place where Dreams Come True. Meaning longer work weeks. 🙄 Thank you for your patience and I’ll see you next time. ❤️


	47. One Shot: Lazy Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clyde gets Viola wound up in bed and may have confessed his deepest desires.

His whiskers tickled her neck as she slowly woke. Viola yawned as she tried pushing the large body off of her only earning a chuckle.

“Clyde...” she whined as she felt his hand start to roam over her side, “Clyde, please... 5 more minutes...”

“Don’t mind me, darling,” Clyde whispered in her ear before his hand groped her chest. 

“Clyde...” Viola tried to shift away, but he pulled her against his bare chest. She felt his teeth grazing just under her ear as his hand traveled lower. She squirmed more before it found her warm and waiting private. She stopped squirming when he parted those lips and tenderly stroke her sensitive nub. Viola turned her face towards the pillow as Clyde went to work. She never knew what truly got into him, but in the early hours as the sun was peeking out, he always seemed riled up to do something. It happened at least three times a week and if he was really ambitious, twice in one day. 

“I want to hear you, darling,” his southern drawl making her weak, “No need to be shy. Most of the house knows what we do up here.”

“It’s... indecent...” she sighed as she arched against. 

“Ain’t nothing indecent about biology, Viola,” he chuckled before slipping a finger inside her. 

“Madame... Holdo....”

“Amilyn will just scold you. You’re the lady of this house, Viola,” his pacing was lethargic and torturous, “If you wanted to, you could turn her out on the streets.”

“I would never... Ahhh...” Viola turned back to her pillow and bit down as his pace started to pick up and he added another finger. 

“You could always turn me out, Viola,” he whispered, “Make me beg to come back to you. Treat me like the dog I am.”

“You’re... not... a... dog...” she painted as he pulled his hand away. 

“Are you sure about that?” He placed a wet kiss on her cheek as he adjusted her legs, spreading them wider and hiking up the skirt of her nightgown till her buttocks felt what his member, stiff and ready. 

“Clyde,” she sighed again as he adjusted himself. 

“Many women ran away from me, Viola, but not you,” he continued as he stroked himself against her sobbing folds, “and I intend to take advantage of it everyday of my life.”

“You almost... sound like you’re... proposing marriage,” her breath hitched as he sunk into her. She should have been used to his girth and the way he filled her up, but every time this happened she was always off guard. 

“Maybe I am,” his thrust were lazy as he reached under the nightgown to fondle one of her breast, “Maybe I want to spend everyday with you. Loving you like this with Blackberry chasing our little rascals around.”

“Clyde...” his thrusts were starting to pick up and Viola felt dizzy. 

“Maybe I want this to be our home rather than just your home,” he huffed, “Maybe I want to have you like this even when there is grey in my hair and wrinkles on my brow.”

“Clyde...” Viola couldn’t think straight as he moved her to her stomach, pressing her into the mattress as he continued to undo her. 

“Maybe I want to take you far away, where no one could disturb us,” he grunted, “I’d have you naked all the time and panting morning till night for me. I’d figured out a way to go all day for you. Ruin you for other men.”

“You’ve already done that!” she cried out as her toes curled and her legs shook. Every time he did this it was more powerful than the last. He pulled out and left his spent on her lower back. If she had the energy after this, she curse him for making a mess. Instead she allowed him to kiss that special spot between her shoulders and whisper sweet nothings to her before disappearing to draw her a bath. Clyde Logan was sure to be the death of her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much needed love for my boy Clyde. Kiss kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> A new story, what is wrong with me? I start them and don't finish them, but this one could not get out of my head. Hope you like it. Check out my other stuff. Kay thanks bye.


End file.
